


Something Is Wrong With the Sum of Us

by hrkkitulikijehuar



Series: Never Sigh for a Better World [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Slow Burn, mental illness and neurodiversity are persecuted, the story isn't necesarily dark but the universe is, uther is a terrible parent/gaurdian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:13:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 44,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrkkitulikijehuar/pseuds/hrkkitulikijehuar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In modern day Albion, the Last King died over 75 years ago but the constitutional government caries on. Uther Pendragon is the powerful Duke of Somerset, and he has a vendetta he pursues through his position as Minister of Public Safety. His son Arthur, his ward Morgana, Gwen, and Merlin all attend Camelot University, but amidst love and learning, Uther’s shadow threatens to tear the country apart.</p><p>The new semester starts off with a promise to be as eventful as the last and unrest in Albion grows. Gwen looks for answers about her family and Morgana looks for answers about herself. Merlin's tight rope walk becomes more perilous and everything Arthur thought he knew may be challenged when a stranger promises to tell him about his mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Merlin's Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> (and now for the adaptation of season 2...  
> 1\. I still have very little idea what I am doing so I will probably screw up sometimes, please bear with me, though I am getting better at the formatting stuff...mostly  
> 2\. the setting is, like the series, in a very vague time and place, so the combination of American, British, and possibly Canadian and Australian, terms and references is intentional and random.  
> 3\. ~~I have a history of characters not falling in love with who I intend them to so the ships are TENTATIVE and may change.~~  
>  4\. I am honored and grateful to have [Jay](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Recalcitrant_Slytherin_Slut/pseuds/Recalcitrant_Slytherin_Slut) as my beta!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin helps Morgana as she finally realizes the truth.

~*~Merlin~*~

 

    “I think...I think I want to go home.” Gwen said, setting her tea cup down on her tray. “Now that I can. Besides it's the first week, missing class now will be alright, I've printed out the syllabus for each class and gone over them. So...”

    Her shoulders hunched a little as she trailed off. Merlin hadn't been expecting that. She'd told him what Somerset had done, and Merlin had mixed feelings about that, but at least Gwen now had access to her childhood home. But he had no idea she was getting ready to finally go there. He supposed he'd neglected Gwen in the final week of break, between being home and waking up in the middle of the night to text Arthur to make sure he was still alive...

    “I'll go with you.” Morgana and Arthur said at the same time. They sat next to each other at the dining hall table. Merlin preferred to sit across from Arthur, that kept the table between them which made Merlin feel safer, but it also meant he could watch Arthur's every move—surreptitiously. He was a bit concerned about how watching Arthur seemed to calm him now. At first he thought it natural, but by now he was starting to find it creepy.

    “You can't.” Arthur pointed out to Morgana, “You're an RA, you have duties. Besides, you never let father give you a car. I did.”

    “I don't need a car.” Morgana shrugged.

    “Thank you both, but it's really alright.” Gwen said. “I don't want to interfere with anyone's studies, this is important for me, but--”

    “It's the perfect time.” Arthur interrupted, “Just like you said, and you shouldn’t go alone. Besides, I do have a car. I'll go with you.”

    “Arthur...” Gwen tried. But he just shook his head.

    “I won't get in the way, I'm sure there are things that you need to do alone, but not everything. And if I don't go, you know we'll all just worry and text you constantly.”

    Merlin didn't like the idea at all. He understood what Arthur was trying to do, and he thought it was the right thing. Gwen really shouldn't go alone, she really should have a friend there, both because it would be an emotional time and Gwen needed people, and because they were all still a bit jumpy about what had happened over the break. Life had proven to them that people really might be lurking behind the corner ready to do them harm. No one would feel comfortable if Gwen went off on her own, but Merlin wouldn't be comfortable if Arthur went away with an army. He needed to see him, needed to know he was alive. Merlin glanced at Morgana's hands and knew she was having a similar problem.

    Splitting up was a terrible idea, but he could understand why Gwen needed to do it. So he said nothing.

    Gwen gave Arthur a shy, sad smile when she eventually gave in. They left that evening and Morgana and Merlin could only frown and watch them go.

    The next day, Merlin enjoyed not having any eight o'clock classes this term by sleeping in. He needed the rest since he had still woken up in the early hours counting compressions again. He sent Arthur his daily 'Are you still alive'? text and waited for the reply. The first few times he'd been too panicked to care about waking Arthur up, but somewhere around the fourth or fifth time he woke up from that nightmare, he tried to ignore it. Not only did he work himself into a right state, but Arthur eventually texted him to ask the same question. Merlin had broken down and called him,

    “I didn't want to wake you.”

    “Don't be an idiot Merlin.”

    “Why are you awake, anyway?”

    “Strange as it may seem, me getting poisoned and nearly dying didn't just happen to you. I have nightmares too. So does Morgana, and Gwen, and my father. Well, I'm not sure he sleeps at all actually. Never have been.”

    Merlin had paused at that, it took him a long time to decode Arthur's tone. “What, do we all text you at three in the morning?”

    “From about three ‘til four there's no point in trying to sleep.”

    “The hour of the wolf.”

    “What?”

    “The hour of the wolf is somewhere between three and five in the morning, basically the time just before dawn, when the wolf lurks outside your door. It's a metaphor or something for when you can't sleep, and all you do is think about your worries. It's also when nightmares are supposed to be more intense, and when people who pass in their sleep are said to have died. I was sort of born during it.”

    “Oh.” Arthur went silent the way people often did after Merlin rattled off some fact in a way they said made him sound like an encyclopedia.

    Merlin got uncomfortable, he hated phones. But finally Arthur said:

    “Anyway, just text me when you wake up, it helps me sleep if I know you're all safe. Don't forget why I did it in the first place. I care, Merlin.”

    “I know, and I know it didn't just happen to me, but it's sort of hard not to be self-centered right when I wake up from that.”

    “I get it. Go to sleep, Merlin, we're all fine.”

    “Just keep breathing.” Merlin huffed, embarrassed by the whole thing.

    So the texting had become routine, which probably seemed reasonable to Arthur, but it worried Merlin. He was long past trying to cut and run, but he still had to be careful. He may have helped to save Arthur's life, but he had no illusions that that would save him if anyone realized what he was. For Merlin, routines were the framework of his life, they were the solid ground he stood on, how he managed his anxieties, and how he hid. Routines were how he knew what was happening and how to behave, even the little ones no one else ever thought about, like the structure of common conversations. It was the only way to do small talk—stick to the script. But as with anything else beneficial, there was always a way it could go wrong.

    A disrupted routine could have terrible side effects. Thus far he'd managed to manifest this mainly by coming down with terrible colds. But anxiety attacks, angry outbursts, and other distress—other red flags for anyone watching, could also result. So having this new routine with Arthur was all well and good now when the event was still so recent, but eventually everyone else would recover and stop texting. Even if Merlin did get over it, which didn't feel likely at the moment, he'd still depend on the routine. It might seem a small thing to someone else, but to Merlin it was a ticking time bomb.

    He sent off a non-routine 'good morning' text to both Gwen and Arthur before he dressed for his normal breakfast and his first day of classes. He wondered how they were getting along: he knew he wouldn't want to take Arthur to his home. Or Morgana, for that matter, though he thought she'd be more understanding. Arthur didn't strike him as someone who'd know what to do in a house with less than a hundred rooms. Nor did he seem like he'd be all that sensitive about the fact that Gwen's father was, well, dead. It was very easy to imagine Arthur, standing in front of some threadbare, well loved sofa staring at Gwen in confusion as she burst into tears holding her father's favorite shirt that Arthur had just called an old rag and offered to throw out.

    Not that Merlin thought he'd do a better job on that front. He felt for Gwen, but he knew nothing of fathers alive or dead. Merlin was only good about that stuff with people who didn't want to talk about it and preferred to be distracted and pretend nothing was wrong. Merlin was good at that—not the other thing.

    He met up with Morgana for lunch. Merlin started off by telling her all about his first Introduction to Geology class. That had just devolved into how torn he was about canals, when the Union went uncharacteristically quiet. Merlin didn't notice at first, but Morgana shushed him and pointed to one of the televisions mounted in corners.

    Fire, lots of fire. Merlin squinted at the ticker underneath the blaze as the silence solidified around him. Halifax, the second largest city in Albion after the capital of Regina, was presently on fire. The text crawling across the screen indicated chaos and conflicting reports but apparently the city was experiencing the largest scale anti-Public Safety riot in history. Merlin and Morgana pulled out their phones and began looking up details.

    “It's pointless.” Morgana said after several long moments as the chatter in the Union started again, though still in hushed tones. “There's nothing but wild rumors.”

    Merlin had a pretty good idea who was responsible. But all he said was, “It just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?”

    “As long as Uther is alive, that's the only possibility.” She sighed. “At first, given what happened to us, I almost thought he might be right but...I can't help thinking it's his fault. He created that situation. I don't really understand what happened between him and Dr. Nimueh, but I get the feeling he knew her personally, and she's part of why he's done everything he's done. When I was younger, I just thought he was wrong, actually mistaken in his approach to the situation. Now I think it's worse than that—he's not misguided, this is some kind of personal war he's fighting. I think he knows exactly what he's doing and doesn't care.”

    Merlin had to let that sink in for several moments. Morgana had made many a disparaging remark about Somerset, but she'd never been that open about her feelings on his policies and what she knew. Merlin had never given a thought to why the Duke of Somerset did what he did. Merlin had long just accepted the man as a sort of ultimate evil. Seeing him around his family did nothing to soften this view, despite his obvious concern over Arthur when his son had been poisoned. Even his concern looked sinister to Merlin.

    “I don't know.” He said finally. “But I don't think violence is the answer. Things need to change, but I can't see how death and destruction are going to make things better.”

    “I suppose sometimes in order to build a better world, you have to tear down the old one.” Morgana mused.

    “I guess...” Merlin mumbled, pulling his hoody strings through his hands and tapping his foot absently. Morgana had a point, Somerset wasn't likely to ever see reason and his research had uncovered that the OMP was used not only to 'protect' the public but also to control where the power in the country was. Surely the people who dismantled the Tylwythteg wouldn't want to change policies even if public opinion shifted. They'd fight to stay in power. How else, other than violence, could the whole thing be dismantled and such people ousted? That was a question for a poli-sci major, not Merlin. Of course, Arthur wasn't likely to have the answer to that either, given he'd want to join that structure--not that Merlin thought Arthur really wanted power, just that it was what his whole life had been building toward.

    But something had gone wrong while Merlin had pondered about power and violence. The Union had almost reached its normal volume again but something was very wrong with Morgana. For a moment Merlin's brain seemed to freeze and refused to identify whatever clues let him know she was in distress. She sat across from him still, so what was wrong? It took him a very long moment to put everything together, but Morgana scrambled out of her chair and bolted for the nearest door, and Merlin went after her as soon as it trickled through.

    It had been the ball. Someone had come into the dining hall bouncing a ball, it was one of those things that sometimes Merlin had difficulty coping with. The sound would seemed to stretch and echo and pound around in his brain, and it just repeated and repeated even after the sound was gone. It hurt. In this instance, Merlin had merely been annoyed with the sound, it wasn't hurting him. But for Morgana it was even more than that. The person had been moving, coming closer with every BANG of the ball on the floor. That was the real problem, listening to the torture close in, waiting for that beat to drop and intensify. Merlin knew what that felt like, that waiting, it was what he liked to call insanity.

    Merlin caught up to Morgana a few steps outside the door.

    “Over here,” he pointed at the niche under the stairway coming down from the upper level. He would have grabbed her hand, but he knew from experience that it would be the wrong thing to do. He hoped she would listen, hoped she could. She was having a panic attack, and that never made Merlin want to be anywhere near people.

    Morgana crouched down in the niche. Merlin knew that Morgana was a different person and might have vastly different preferences and reactions than him, but all he had to go on was his experience and he liked his back to something when he was panicking, he liked to hide, he liked to be low, and if possible somewhere small.

    Merlin approached slowly, only getting close enough so she would be able to hear him while he kept his voice down.

    “Try to regulate your breathing.” He said. “In for a count of four, hold for a count of four, let out for a count of four and wait for a count of four before it starts all over.” While he said it, he motioned with his hands, up then over then down the back. “Breathe in a square. Slow down the counting gradually as you feel comfortable with it.”

    He didn't dare count for her, someone else might have done, but Merlin knew how desperately he needed to control things himself when he felt the way Morgana was feeling.

    It would be best if he could ask her what she needed, but somehow he was pretty sure she didn't know. This isn't something Morgana, ward of Somerset, would know how to handle. So he waited. He didn't tell her what was happening to her because that would only make it worse. Panic attacks were a symptom of Mental Defects. There was no way around that, and the last thing a person having a panic attack needed was another reason to panic.

    Some people walked by and while most of them paid Morgana no mind a few looked at her curiously. Merlin made a face and said: “Bad breakup.”

    That seemed to work.

    Eventually he sat down a few feet from her. She shook violently in waves. When she was in a lull, she could control her breathing, but when it got intense again, and the shaking was at it's worst she threatened to hyperventilate. Merlin couldn't think of anything else to do. Instinctively he did what he would want, and he always wanted to be left alone.

    It took about forty-five minutes before Merlin felt sure the attack was over.

    “You just had a panic attack.” He said quietly. Morgana turned frightened eyes on him.

    “You won't...”

    “Of course not.” Merlin said firmly.

    He wanted to tell her the truth, he wanted to tell her he'd suspected she was like him. But if he told her he thought she was autistic, the list of symptoms would basically be a list of ways they were similar. Telling Morgana about herself would mean telling her about him, and hiding who he was was something Merlin had been doing his whole life. It had drilled into him by his mother: 'blend in or I lose you, tell no one, show no one, trust no one.' As much as he felt for Morgana, he couldn't just break the most central rule of his life.

    “Not everyone with Mental Defects is bad.” Merlin tried. It was utterly lame. What comfort was there in that? He had basically patted her on the head and told her it was ok. It wasn't.

    “I don't mean...” He started again. “Look, not everyone who gets called that, is. Defective, I mean. It doesn't have to be like that. Some people are just different. You're clever and capable.”

    Morgana shook her head. “I don't feel that way, not anymore.”

    Merlin sighed. “It's going to happen again.”

    There was no way to sugar coat it, no way that Merlin could think of. And besides, all of that felt fake and hollow to him. He hated it when people tried to smooth over things and make them nice when they weren't.

    “Then they'll catch me.” Morgana replied dully. “I may as well turn myself in.”

    “No.” Merlin snapped, voice rising, eyes snapping to her face. “Never. Morgana, they'll kill you. If not literally—as good as. You saw what they did to him.”

    “Shh.” Morgana glanced around. Students had come and gone while they had sat there, but no one ever bothered them. Still, it was a dangerous conversation.

    “It'll be hard sometimes but you can do it. You've gotten this far. You can learn.”

    “How?” She asked. “Can you teach me?”

    And that was a loaded question. Merlin shook his head before really thinking. Self -preservation was too long his standard.

    “We'll find a way,” He insisted instead. “There has to be a way.”

    “What if I snap? What if I just go crazy and hurt people?”

    'You won't', he longed to say, 'You're not like that, that's not what this is. You're just scared. We aren't like that.' But how could he convince her that that wasn't the sort of mental defect she was manifesting without explaining who she really was?

    “Look, we'll get help.” He finally said, unable to think of anything else. “People helped Mordred, maybe they can help you.”

    “Ok, I get why you didn't tell me, but why didn't you tell Morgana?” Merlin asked as he walked into Gaius' parlor after his final class of the day.

    “What are you talking about, Merlin?” Gaius asked, a little exasperated. People sometimes didn't catch Merlin's train of thought as easily as he thought they should.

    “Morgana.” Merlin said tersely. “I am talking about Morgana and how you didn't tell her. And while I do understand why you didn't just tell me, you had to know I'd figure it out eventually. But why didn't you tell her?”

    “I still don't know what you are talking about, Merlin.” Gaius said, but his voice was wrong. He was lying.

    Merlin rolled his eyes. “Of course you do, that's how she's managed this long. You've been coaching her for years, only you didn't tell her what it was you were doing. Why? It would have made it a lot easier if she had any idea what was going on. But she had no clue.”

    Gaius's hands came together in agitation.

    “I thought she would be safer not knowing. I couldn't tell her, Merlin, she was a child and living with Uther, if she knew...no. It's best for her that she not know.”

    “Too late.” Merlin replied coldly. “She knows. She had a panic attack in the Union.”

    “Did anyone see, what happened Merlin, is she...”

    “She's terrified, what did you expect? No one really noticed, luckily riots make excellent distractions, but now she's probably having another one, alone in her room, because she's the Duke of Somerset's ward and she's well on her way to an anxiety disorder because you didn't tell her she's autistic so she has no idea how to cope with everything that's happened to her in the last six months. Hell, I don't even know how to cope with it but at least I know what's happening to me. She has no idea. She's so afraid.”

    “Merlin, if Uther were to find out--”

    “I know.” Merlin shouted. “That's why I'm so angry!”

    Merlin clenched his fists, and then his toes in his runners. He hated to shout at Gaius, but he was furious. He could guess some of what Morgana was feeling and it hurt. Not to mention the danger Morgana had been in for so long—completely unknowing.

    “Merlin, I've only ever tried to do what's best for Morgana.” Gaius said quietly, pleading.

    “I believe you.” Merlin conceded, relaxing his hands and feet, “But you were wrong. Maybe it was safer in the beginning, I don't know, but you should have told her by the time she went to university. What's done may be done, but we have to help her now.”

    “You didn’t tell her, about you, did you?”

    “I wanted to.” Merlin admitted. “But no.”

    “You can't.” Gaius said adamantly.

    Merlin just sighed. He didn't know what to do about that. It felt like a lie to not tell her now that they both knew about her. But Merlin was afraid to, he truly was. His whole life had centered around keeping this secret, it had always been presented as the end of everything if he were discovered. That wasn't a fear he could overcome in a day, no matter how much it hurt to think of how alone Morgana must feel.

    “We have to help her.” Merlin repeated. “If we can do that without telling her about me, fine. I have an idea about that. If she's going to have panic attacks, she can't stay here. There isn't time for her to learn how to manage them well enough to carry on. You know how to contact people who help people like her.”

    “Merlin, this isn't some run away child from Care, this is Uther's ward. She can't simply leave Camelot.”

    “She has to or she'll be taken,” Merlin shrugged. “You tried to protect her but you failed. Now you need to help her escape. I know she'll go, we just need to know how to contact the right people.”

    Gaius put his face in his hands, but Merlin knew he'd won.


	2. Arthur's Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Gwen return to her father's house.

Chapter 2  
~*~Arthur~*~

    Gwen did not live in a hovel. Not that Arthur expected her too—or knew what a hovel would look like outside of the sort of dirty hut with a thatched roof like one saw in historical or fantasy films. Modern hovels, who knew what they looked like? But Gwen's home was just a rather medium sized house in a neighborhood where it looked like it belonged. It was a light gray color with a dark gray roof and matching shutters. It did look sad, somehow, to Arthur, not in disrepair, but not warm or kind like Gwen. Perhaps the warmth would be inside.

    He had spent a good deal of the trip preparing himself for the house. He was there for Gwen, to help Gwen, and it wouldn't do to judge her home or how her father had provided for her. He wasn't blind—he knew she and Merlin had been uncomfortable with the displays of wealth and lineage at Pendragon Castle. It stood to reason then that he might be uncomfortable in some way where they were going, and he was determined to keep Gwen's knowledge of this to the barest minimum.

    Gwen had gotten more withdrawn the closer they got, which was also something he had prepared himself for. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she was going through and, accepting that he couldn't fix it, he could only be as unobtrusive as possible—another reason to not let his reaction to her home show.

    Inside, Gwen gave a shaky half sob as she turned on a light and the kitchen appeared before them. She led him in and set her bag down by the table so Arthur did as well. Gwen stared around for a moment and Arthur decided he could imagine it being a warm place once, when the family was alive and together, when a young Gwen might have run in with her brother to eat pancakes with their parents. The kitchen was open to a sitting room, or he supposed it might be called a family room. There was a sofa and two chairs arranged around a coffee table  facing a television in the corner. The television set was situated between the front window and wall of the entry way that led to the kitchen where they stood. Leading to the middle, where the kitchen and the family room met, was a staircase. Arthur imagined that there was a cupboard or perhaps a powder room beneath that. That made up the majority of the first floor. It was tiny compared with even the Pendragon cottage on a lake in the north country.

    The walls were painted, but had little in the way of decoration. That came mostly from some faded curtains in floral patterns at all of the windows. There were a series of family photos, however, on the wall going up the stairs. He would have to look at them later to see what Gwen had looked like as a child.

    “I think,” Gwen finally broke the silence. “I think I can get Elyan's room ready for you.”

    “Oh,” Arthur replied. He knew a house like this would not have enough extra rooms for him, Morgana, and Merlin to have all come with Gwen, but he hadn't considered that there wouldn't be at least one guest room. “I don't want to...disturb things. I could...sleep on the couch?”

    He'd seen people offer to do that on television a few times. It seemed a terrible idea to him, however, they were narrow and the one in Gwen's family room looked well worn and lumpy.

    “No, it's fine.” Gwen said. “Elyan hasn't been home in three years anyway.”

    Gwen took her bag and started upstairs. Arthur waited awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure if he should follow her or not, but he figured she'd need space, and it would be even more awkward to watch her prepare the room. He'd been aware, in a vague sense, that there would be no servants here. But he hadn't worried about that because there were no servants at Camelot. Except, now he supposed that there were. They weren't the sort of household staff his father employed, but the University paid people to cook and clean, to maintain the grounds and the buildings, to do all the things Arthur never thought about. Which is why he had just figured that here, as it was only for a week, there wouldn't be enough work to be done that he would notice.

    He also realized, he had just assumed Gwen would take care of most things.

    Well.

    Arthur flushed with embarrassment. No wonder she had been reluctant to accept his offer to accompany her. He'd thought she wanted to grieve and process in private, but it may have been more than that. So much more.

 

    Arthur lay on Elyan's bed and stared at the ceiling in the dimness. He and Gwen had gone into town to buy groceries and have supper. It had been subdued but nice, strangely enough. He'd made Gwen laugh, and listened as she pointed out places she played as a child. It was only midnight, but he couldn't help it. He gave up his attempts to sleep and rolled over to grab his phone from the little bedside table.

 

 **To Merlin** :  
I can't sleep.

 **From Merlin** :  
Why?

 **To Merlin** :  
Strange bed. Strange place.  
I've never slept somewhere before that wasn't home,  
or school or uni.

 **From Merlin** :  
no sleep overs?

 **To Merlin** :  
Just that time you slept on the floor,  
which happened in my room and therefore doesn't count.  
Why was your hoody special anyway?

He hadn't asked before, when Merlin explained why the hoody he'd always worn had not been his favorite color, but he was tired and keyed up, and somehow the silence of the strange place pressed in on him. He just wanted Merlin to offer up something to distract him.

He was disinclined to oblige.

 **From Merlin** :  
because.

 And he could almost hear Merlin's voice in his head then, his tone, the way it closed off and it goaded Arthur into sending something he immediately regretted:

 **To Merlin** :  
are you wearing the one I gave you now?

He stared at his phone, brain frantically trying to find a way to call the text back or to come up with a way to dismiss or change it somehow. But before he could think of anything, Merlin replied.

 **From Merlin** :  
yes

The response was as quick as it was unexpected. He started to type in some joke about Gaius' being cold but stopped and deleted it. He tried again but all he could seem to type was:

 **To Merlin** :  
Good.  
You'd look weird without it.

 **From Merlin** :  
try this

And then he sent the address for a youtube video with the sounds of a thunderstorm at the ocean.

 **From Merlin** :  
go to sleep, Arthur

 

    “I hate to just leave you alone...” Gwen bit her lip.

    “I didn't come so I could be in the way,” Arthur reminded her. “I can get on Blackboard and see what I'm missing, text Morgana and Merlin to let them know we're still alive...all kinds of things. Just do what you need to, and know I'm down here if you need me.”

    Gwen gave a sort of half nod and left to go look through her father's things. She hadn't said much, but Arthur guessed she was looking for answers. There wouldn't be many, since Public Safety had been through the house and would have taken anything they thought might be evidence. Still, looking might help Gwen in it's own way.

    Arthur had wondered about the man who had lived here, worked metal, and raised Gwen. It seemed so unlikely that he was anything but ordinary, and yet, somehow, he had been involved with breaking out some of the most dangerous criminally insane people Public Safety had ever put away. He had always know Gwen's father must have been guilty—his father would never allow sloppiness on such a large case, if they implicated the man, he was involved—but Morgana and Gwen had always seemed less sure. Until the winter holiday. Now they both seemed convinced he had been involved, a fact that somehow related to Gwen's ability to get the antidote, it was the strangest thing, that fact.

    Cara Nimueh proved her insanity by, in addition to having been incarcerated in the first place, breaking out and then targeting him and Morgana. Blaming his father for her imprisonment was twisted enough, his father was a politician, a legislator. He made policy, certainly, but to blame a single person for one's own fate, particularly when that fate was the result of one's own actions? Clearly that was defective thinking. And revenge through a man's love ones? More madness. And yet...someone as twisted as that relented when Gwen demanded that Arthur's life was owed her because her father died to set Nimueh free.

    That was the problem with the mentally defective though, they couldn't be logical, they couldn't be consistent, they were insidious because they were so unpredictable, so chaotic. One might just lose one's own mind trying to follow their reasoning. That is why any profession that required one to try to understand them, from those who sought to catch them, to those who sought to help them, was considered so dangerous. You needed trained Finders, of course, and law enforcement trained to hunt rogue defectives down, people to manage them in care, people who monitored those safe enough to hold simple jobs...all of those things were necessary. But there was always the fear that those drawn to such professions were themselves ultimately defective—which is why so many often burned out by turning sympathizer, or worse.

    Arthur shuddered slightly.

    Best not think about that. He pulled out his phone and started idly flicking through the classes he'd miss today. Theory and Practice of Democracy and Introductory Economics. Lovely. He pulled out The Social Contract and started reading the assigned chapter.

    And that was largely how they spent their days. They shared meals where Gwen was apprehensive about her cooking, and Arthur lying that he liked it out of guilt that he could offer no assistance. Her cooking likely was not bad, he thought, but it was not what he was accustomed to. Gwen looked through her father’s things, or her own and made notes. Sometimes they read together in the evenings. Gwen also cried, which at first had caused great awkwardness because Arthur had no idea what to do about it. He tried babbling helplessly and fleeing, among other just as useful tactics before finally exhausting his terror, and realizing he did have human instincts after all. By Thursday he had figured out that when Gwen started crying, he should put on the kettle and then offer her his hand. Then he would squeeze her hand gently and she would squeeze back, if she also gave him a brave smile then he was to let go and fuss over the tea. If she did not manage a smile, then he pulled her into a hug and held her until she pulled away. Then he went and fussed over the tea.

    Hugging Gwen made Arthur realize two things. The first was that his childhood had been almost completely devoid of familial contact. His father had never been demonstrative and Morgana shied away from touch. The second thing he realized was that it was a pity. He found he quite liked hugs meant to comfort, and suspected he'd always craved that sort of thing without realizing it. He hoped that in future when he needed a hug Gwen might, at least occasionally, return the favor. He was aware of her as a girl—a young woman, of course. But while he had embraced his lovers, that had always been different—always part, however indirectly, of their sexual relationship. While Gwen was attractive, her vulnerability dampened any other feelings he might have had toward her. It was not a conscious thing, not an effort he had to make, it just came naturally to him. Gwen might be pretty but he could not want to mix the carnal with her grief and her trust of him as a friend. And so the hugs were something different from the others he had had.

 

    “And then,” Gwen waved her spoon in emphasis. “Elyan went around for days speaking only in lines from Hamlet.”

    Arthur chuckled politely but also sincerely. It was funny to hear stories about Gwen's family, even if it sounded all rather like a television show rather than any reality he could recognize.

    “I had a school friend who reminds me of Elyan a bit,” Arthur admitted. It was something he'd never spoken about, his friendship with Galahad. He'd been a year Arthur's junior and the son of one of his father's rivals. Uther had encouraged Arthur to befriend the sons of certain of those not in his camp, but not Galahad. Galahad's father was a true rival to Uther, in policy and in power, and he knew his father would never have approved—so he had kept it secret.

    “We used to get up to so much mischief.”

    “I can't picture you as mischievous.” Gwen's brow scrunched up slightly as though she was trying to conjure up the mental image.

    “Oh I wasn’t. He wasn't either exactly, more...curious, or adventurous. He had a way of making everything sound exciting, but reasonable.”

    “That does sound like Elyan.” Gwen smiled. “It isn't that he wanted to break rules or get us in trouble, but something would catch his eye and then he'd have talked me over the fence before I could remember what happened the last time.”

    “Exactly.” Arthur nodded. “I was more cautious, I'd like to pretend I'm the reason we never got caught out of bed but, in all honesty, I have no idea how we managed it. It was like he was a good luck charm, and there were no consequences as long as we were together.”

    “That's sweet.”

    Arthur made a face. “It was silly.”

    “It was childhood.” Gwen argued.

    “I suppose...huh.” His phone had begun ringing with his father's ring tone. He gave Gwen an apologetic look and then stood up from the kitchen table while hitting the receive button.

    “Father?” he asked, moving toward the front door. He couldn't imagine why his father was calling him. Uther emailed, or his secretary did.

    “Arthur, where are you?”

    Arthur swallowed, caught between instincts. But if his father was calling to ask...it was likely to late to lie.

    “Actually, I'm in Lethbridge keeping Gwen company while she sorts out some things at her house.”

    “I suppose I should at least be grateful you did not lie.” Uther said, and his tone briefly brought out the child in Arthur, the one who struggled to please his father but could never seem to manage it, the child whose heart clenched up, and who fought tears whenever his father sent for him because it always meant a reprimand.

    “I am displeased, Arthur, but that will have to wait. Is Morgana with you?”

    “No...” Arthur replied, confused.

    “Do you have any idea why her phone would be off or why the last location listed would be just outside of McKenzie, Morganshire?”

    Arthur couldn't even answer that without pausing to wonder if he'd heard right. “No. No I don't. She was supposed to stay at Camelot. Wait, does that mean you tracked our phones?”

    “I receive biweekly reports on you and Morgana, as any concerned parent or guardian would.” Uther dismissed. “Imagine my surprise when today's report indicated that neither of you were at university. Your location, however, at least made some degree of sense. I do not know of any connection Morgana has to the area her phone was last used. Are you sure you know nothing about this?”

    “No, I don't. I'm worried too. I haven't heard from her since Tuesday but that wasn't odd...or I didn’t think it was, I figured she was busy with classes and residents.”

    “Are you sleeping with the Smith girl?”

    “What? No. No, father. Gwen is just a friend. I just didn't want her to be alone.”

    “We'll discuss your transgressions later. I need to locate Morgana. I expect you to be back at Camelot by this evening, Arthur.”

    “Yes, father.” Arthur said automatically. “Tell me when you find Morgana, and I'll let you know if I hear anything...”

    “Goodbye, Arthur.” Uther hung up. Arthur stared at his phone for a moment then typed out a message.

 

 **To Merlin** :  
Do you know where Morgana is?

While waiting for a response, Arthur went back inside to tell Gwen. She took well it enough, understanding about Arthur being caught out and needing to return early, and showing great concern over Morgana's status. She suggested he ask Merlin right about the time that he replied.

 **From Merlin** :  
no

Arthur growled at the unsatisfactory reply, but halfway through typing 'what do you mean 'no'?', he got another message from Merlin.

 **From Merlin** :  
why?

Arthur suppressed another angry noise and just called Merlin. Gwen had gone to pack up, and Arthur help the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he started to do the same. Merlin however did not pick up. Infuriating.

 **To Merlin** :  
My father apparently tracks our phones.  
Hers is off and the last place it was on makes no sense.

 **From Merlin** :  
she texted me yesterday, haven't seen her since tuesday.

    It really wasn't Merlin's fault, but Arthur felt like he'd left Morgana and Merlin in each other's keeping, and that they ought to have looked out for one another. However, if he was honest with himself, he didn't see Morgana everyday either. And he hadn't worried when she didn't say anything to him yesterday. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that her phone might have just been stolen. She might be at Camelot now, unaware of all the anxiety about her safety. His father would send someone to check, of course, and perhaps they would find her right where she ought to be.

    Or maybe she had taken advantage of him being out of town with Gwen to...what?

    Could someone have come after her again? He thought it was all over when Nimueh was captured and re-imprisoned. Were he and Morgana still in danger? Was his father? Arthur shook his head to clear it. No, panicking was no use. He had to focus on the fact that she might be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an Albion legal note: people cease to be minors at 18, which is when they can own property, marry, buy alcohol and porn and cigarettes, etc. In fact, common people reach their majority at 18 which is why Gwen can inherit her father's estate (Elyan is on some kind of list at present and illegible until/unless he passes an interview with OPM explaining why he's been missing and clearing him of any criminal activity). The big exception is Peers, which is why Morgana is over 18 but has not reached her majority. The children of Peers do not reach majority until 21 because they have an automatic seat in government. She can so everything else the same as the common people but she doesn't inherit her father's estate until she turns 21. Similarly, when Arthur turns 21, he can attended parliament and even vote in his father’s place as long as he has official written permission from his father. In the meantime, the Morgana's seat remains vacant. When she threatens to sue for independence from Uther in part I, she's threatening to ask for legal access to her father's money and lands. Technically at 18 she's entitled to everything except the vote in government, which has to wait until she's 21. However, the tradition is for wards like Morgana to remain with their guardians (usually family) until they actually turn 21 and have all kinds of fancy parties and introductions and stuff.


	3. Morgana's Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana is reunited with Mordred while plans are made to smuggle her out of the country.

~*~Morgana~*~  


    “I thought a familiar face might be comforting,” Aglain said, smiling as he stepped aside to reveal none other than the boy Merlin had found several months ago. He was still a wide-eyed, solemn youth, but he looked better fed and more at ease—probably because the lack of bruises and injuries meant he wasn't tense with pain.

    “Hello again,” Morgana smiled. “I'm pleased to see you.”

    The boy nodded in greeting, giving her the smallest hint of a smile in return.

    “Arthur told us your name is Mordred.” Morgana sat down on the camp bed.

    Mordred nodded, which Morgana took as permission to use it in future. She'd felt strange referring to him by the name when he had not given it to her. Aglain left them, off to tend to the flock of other people in the camp.

    Mordred approached shyly, watching her as he came to sit on the other end of her bed. He still stared at her the way he had before, almost not blinking. As much as she liked the boy, this still unsettled her, but she turned her own gaze to the hands in her lap and relaxed a bit—Mordred wouldn't judge her, so it was nice to be around him.

    “Are you doing better here?” she asked, flicking her eyes over to see his response.

    He nodded vigorously and waved his hands, as though gesturing to the tent or the camp, and gave her another small smile.

    “Good. We were so worried, sending you off with people we didn't know, but we couldn't think what else to do.” And then she sighed. “Now I'm here too.”

    “Safe.” Mordred whispered, and Morgana was both startled and pleased he'd spoken to her.

    “Yes, we're safe now, and we're together.” Morgana tried to smile for him, tried to be brave.

    Mordred was more than a familiar face, he was kin, in a strange way. All those things he'd done that had reminded her of herself—and of Merlin, all those little things had turned out to be very important. They had turned out to mean she was, to use the vulgar but politically correct term, mentally defective.

    Aglain had asked her a lot of questions when he'd first met her. At first she'd thought he was trying to decide whether or not to trust her, but she soon realized he was trying to diagnose the variety of her defect. As the questions got more and more specific, it often seemed like he must have been watching her for years to know what to ask Morgana, and she finally realized how foolish she had been about Merlin.

    There hadn't been time, to be fair, for her to have worked it out before she left. After he left her, promising they would find a way to help her, she'd had another panic attack in her room alone. She'd tried to breathe the way Merlin had told her, but the best she could manage was to cower in her room telling herself over and over that it would be ok—like she was soothing a frightened child rather than talking to herself. They were empty words, for not only was the panic attack proof that nothing would be alright ever again, but talking to oneself in that way was also a sure sign that a person was mentally unstable. But it meant that denial was not an option—she was the monster Uther had always warned about. She was the kind that seemed fine for years and then suddenly wasn't. The only comfort she had to hold on to was that she hadn't hurt anyone.

    The next day was a flurry of planning with Merlin, and she had been too frightened, too distracted, too confused to wonder overmuch about how he'd know what she was going through or how to help. She'd never considered it consciously, but the back of her mind had assumed he knew because of some family member or childhood friend. And then it was time to leave, time to run away from her life, her identity, the only home and family she had ever know. It had been too much.

    But as Aglain narrowed down his initial assessment of her, it all came together. Merlin's reaction to Mordred, why he brought him to her, the way he seemed to understand him better than anyone else. Merlin's quirks and habits, why he felt like the only person in her life who didn't shout at her constantly, why he'd known instantly what was happening to her when she bolted from the dinning hall. And his reluctance to befriend Arthur! What had she and Gwen bullied him into? Asking him to stay at Pendragon Castle...she couldn't believe he'd agreed, no matter what anyone said to him. The knife at his throat from that visit was probably one of the less stressful moments for him. But that was the line Merlin walked.

    And she understood that. She had tried to be angry with him for not telling her, but she understood too well to muster any real venom. His promise to help her could be considered somewhat self-serving really, but even if it was, she couldn't blame him. He knew, of course, that as soon as she found out the specifics of what she was, she'd know they were the same. Then they would both hold a deadly secret over the other, and that kind of trust was not easily given. This way, she was in the one place where such information was of no threat to him. And, whether by accident or design, she was likewise protected—or would be as soon as she had been smuggled out of Albion.

    That was the only way. Someone like Mordred, or many of the other people with various disorders, conditions, illnesses, etc could and did remain in Albion, sheltered by their families, others like them and their families, and other people devoted to undermining Uther and his ministry. But Morgana was the most high profile person they'd ever had among their number. She'd been terrified they wouldn't take her for that reason—her presence could be their undoing. But Aglain said they'd never turned anyone away just because the authorities were looking for them. They only turned away people who they truly could not help, which was always down to resources. At present, Aglain was confident they had what they needed both to treat her while she was with them, and to get her out of Albion.

    Treatment for Morgana consisted of a lot of talking, some breathing exercises, and an ever growing list of possibilities for when she was safely out of Albion. Aglain had explained that his tentative diagnosis was autism. He said that it had been a relatively new diagnosis before Uther became Minister of Public Safety, and that not a lot of research had been done on it before Uther suspended such studies. It was classified as a developmental brain disorder—which had made her blanch, but he had told her not to get hung up on the terminology. He said her brain was just a bit different than was average, but that averages were only that—averages, not perfect templates of how things were supposed to be. He said that since she could remember her father saying she'd spoken early and remained precocious as a child, she probably had a variety of autism called Asperger's Syndrome, which tended to appear mild. He also said that her problem wasn't that she was autistic, but the anxiety. Apparently, anxiety and depression were common sort of side-effect illnesses that came from the world not being aware or considerate of her needs.

    Aglain always made it sound like, not only was Morgana a perfectly safe and acceptable human being, but that she had been failed and mistreated by the whole world. He told her that she would likely start to notice, now that she knew about it, all the ways in which she had bent and contorted herself, all the energy she expended pushing herself—to make other people more comfortable. He reminded her that she didn't even do any of that to protect herself since she was unaware of the danger, she'd simply learned to 'mask', as he called it, purely to appease others. She wasn't sure she really knew what he meant, though. She was simply who she was, just Morgana, and it seemed she'd spent most of her life failing to make other people, like the other students at school, happy with her. And she'd spent a great deal of energy actively annoying Uther rather than bending to his will.

    But as she glanced at Mordred, she did wonder. He stared and stared. She hated meeting people's eyes, which Aglain said was common for autism. So why did Mordred stare? Was he just different—for Aglain had said that the one thing they were absolutely certain of was that autism was highly individual? Or was it because he'd once refused to meet people's eyes like Merlin, or like her when she was little, and he'd been tortured until he had looked up? Did he stare because he was terrified of what would happen if he dared revert to how he preferred to be? Did he stare out of defiance—they had wanted him to look at people so now he never stopped? She didn't dare ask him but she remembered all those times as a child when Uther had forced her to look at him, when her teachers thought she was daydreaming if she didn't make eye contact, when the other kids laughed at her for being 'shy' when she looked at her feet. And hadn't she learned how to do it in the face of all that? And for what? What did she gain from making eye contact? She didn't know. She certainly didn't think Mordred had gained anything from whatever corrections the people at the Care Facility had tried to make, whether it was why he stared or not.

    Mordred pulled out a pad of paper from his pocket. At first she thought he was going to write her a note, but instead he showed it to her with the end of a pencil indicating where he wanted her to look. It was a series of faces, though all the same person—a model whose gender was ambiguous-- making different expressions. Morgana frowned at it for a long time before she understood. The face Mordred was pointing to was clearly, almost comically, frightened. He was asking if she was scared. She almost lied, trying again to be brave since he was a child, but she didn't like lying to anyone and lying to Mordred, even in this way, was too hard. So she just nodded.

    Mordred flipped a few pages and pointed to something else. It was a house, a standard white house with a tree out front, the kind a child might draw though it was professionally printed. Again, she considered a moment.

    “Are you asking if I miss my home—if I'm homesick?”

    Mordred nodded. Morgana didn't know how on earth to answer that. She held out her hand for the pad and he gave it to her. She flipped back to the series of faces, and pointed to the frightened one, the angry one, the sad one, and the one she decided must be confused. And then stopped, glanced up at Mordred and pointing to him, then herself, and then the happy face. Mordred nodded and took the pad back.

    Mordred's way of speaking might seem more complicated or frustrating to an outsider, but just then, Morgana found it far more honest, far more simple, and so much less draining. He did scribble a note then,

    'I'll keep you safe. I'll stay with you and we'll be home together.'

    The plan was relatively simple, they couldn't take Morgana to the continent via normal channels—she was technically missing. Instead they would smuggle her onto the continent by taking a private boat owned and operated by other people in the underground network.

    “We call ourselves Druids.” Aglain had said on her second day in his care. “There are old legends that back before the time of the Queen, the Druids were a peaceful collective of magicians that were persecuted. Queen Guinevere, being a friend of the wizard Merlin, eventually granted them citizenship in her lands and granted them her protection, but before that, they often had to smuggle magic users to safety from the vicious kings and warlords that hunted them. We like to think we are continuing their good work to protect those in Albion who need help.”

    That wasn't the only enlightening conversation they had had. Morgana had also gained some insight into Uther.

    “You make it sound like I'm not a monster.” she had confessed quietly.

    “You aren't.” Aglain replied. “Some mental illnesses can be dangerous, both to the person suffering from them and the people around them. But most of the time the things that Public Safety ensure the public are afraid of are just differences. Just different ways of thinking, feeling, and being. Such people aren't any more or less likely to be evil than anyone else—particularly if they are given the tools they need to interact successfully with the world. We teach children to read as a matter of course, but some children need to be taught other things as well, or may need things taught to them in specific ways. That doesn't make them dangerous or even unintelligent, it just makes them different. The same is true of adults.”

    “It's just so strange. All my life I was taught that it was evil, that people—whether they meant to or not—would trick you into thinking they were safe when really they weren't. That any moment they might do something strange that seemed harmless to them but put people in danger. Or would just snap and hurt people outright. And that even the small things that didn't hurt people might grow or change and the only way to stop it was to separate people, to watch them, to always be watching. I thought Uther went too far sometimes but...how can he be so wrong? How can everyone be so wrong?”

    “What you must understand about Uther is that he is a broken man. He deserves our pity, not our hatred. We may hate his policies, his actions even. Someone like Uther let's their pain overcome sense, and he was hurt, Morgana, he did suffer and it hardened his heart and made him an extremist. You must beware of that path, for it is an easy one to lose yourself to and we can all walk it.”

    “But why would everyone let him become this way?” Morgana demanded. “Why didn't anyone stop him? Now everyone is too afraid but it can't have always been like this.”

    “No, but consider how things are now, even now we make allowances for grief, even under his ministry. In the beginning, good people thought it would pass, that he would exhaust his rage and his pain. But Uther's brand of rage was seen by others as an opportunity. Fear is a very powerful tool. So people supported him who sought to use his rage as justification for new laws and new fears that would grant them more power. Uther himself has never been motivated by power, but some around him are. Many powerful people, powerful families, companies...all were targeted under the guise of Uther's concern for public safety. There was a great shift in power after Uther's policies gained support. There are always those who truly believe, as Uther does, but there are also opportunities and people too weak or frightened to stand up to the status quo. There are also people who do not care, or cannot see where events are leading.”

    Morgana shook her head. She understood, she had learned in history classes about continental wars that were fought, and there was more than one that centered around charismatic leaders stirring their people up into a frenzy. She'd always viewed them as morality tales in a sense but had never truly understood how it could happen. How could people be so blind or so afraid or so hateful?


	4. Gwen's Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen needs someone to talk to, and after Morgana's recent ordeal, she only has one person she can think of that she can trust. Uther does not take the abduction of his ward lightly, which is dangerous for everyone.

Chapter 4

~*~Gwen~*~

 

    For the first time since her father died, Gwen felt truly lonely—though not alone. Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur were still there, still friendly. But she found that, while she desperately needed to talk to someone about her father, her brother, the implications of what she had begun to suspect, and her frustrations at finding no answers at home—she had no one to turn to.

    Morgana had just been kidnapped and only barely found before she was smuggled out of the country, where finding her would have been almost impossible. Gwen couldn't put anything more on her after that. Morgana had borne most of the previous semesters trials well enough, but this seemed to finally affect her, and while Gwen couldn't blame her for that, it did seem to make her more closed off. Morgana seemed closer to Merlin now, which Gwen couldn't help feeling a bit hurt by—even if she thought she understood. She and Morgana both had so much to think about, so much to feel, that neither wanted to trouble the other with their separate concerns. Besides which, Merlin and Morgana shared a similar approach to such things. Gwen wanted to be near people, to talk to them, to share and to be hugged. Merlin and Morgana preferred a more reflective way of coping, quieter and more private. She couldn't help her feelings, but nor did she find any actual fault with their behavior.

    Merlin...Merlin was Merlin. She liked him. He could be funny at times, and he was always sincere. When he talked about anything—water, Doctor Who, even the quality of the dining hall food—he always meant exactly what he said. And he never talked just to talk, as much as he could ramble on long past what was interesting to her. That sincerity was comforting, real. She was sure he kept some things to himself, but what he did say had that feeling of being pure and genuine. He was also educational. She didn't always remember what he said, but he could rattle off facts about a variety of topics that, to her, seemed completely random. He was never boring, but he also wasn't someone she could feel close to. In addition to being who Morgana seemed to turn to, he always seemed to have his own concerns as well, even if he never shared them.

    Arthur had been surprisingly lovely on their trip. She hadn't wanted him along for many reasons, but she was glad he'd come. She'd needed someone there, and somehow the fact that he was so clueless about everything, from cooking to what to do when someone cried, the fact that he learned—and learned quickly, demonstrated the core of him: a good heart. He could be snobbish at times, even arrogant, and terribly proud—but that was usually only when other people were around. When it was just the two of them, he had been so much sweeter. Perhaps it was merely that he needed to impress—as a child he'd tried desperately to attract his father's positive attention and, starved for that, he sought any affirmation he could find. She still felt that his efforts had been as genuine as Merlin's chatter, and the fact that her opinion might matter enough to him for him to try to secure her approval, meant something to her as well. But his father was still the Duke of Somerset, and that meant that what she needed to talk about would be uncomfortable for him at best.

    That is how she found herself having given in and arranged to meet Lancelot for a quiet chat in the library. He was the only person she could think of. Her roommate, and her other friends and acquaintances at Camelot she couldn't be sure of. It wasn't exactly that she didn't trust them, but more that she felt it would be hard for them to take seriously. She needed to talk about life and death, public opinion and understanding, crimes and punishment, and national policy. She needed to discuss subversion and rebellion. Lancelot had helped them with Mordred, that meant he could be trusted, and would take her concerns seriously. He was also older, and while it was not by much, and his job at campus security was not really law enforcement, he felt like someone she could turn to for help.

    “Hey,” he greeted, coming up behind her and then sliding on to a chair opposite her at the table she'd chosen. “What's up?”

    His face was a mask of interested concern, and Gwen had a brief moment of uncertainty—it was silly to bother him with her thoughts, but he had come and so she could hardly just tell him she'd changed her mind.

    “It's...a bit of a long story,” She bit her lip. “And I suppose I just need some one to listen.”

    “Well, that's something I can do easily.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

    And so Gwen took a deep breath and explained the circumstances of her father's death and Elyan's disappearance, as she understood them. She finished with her mostly fruitless trip home.

    “I'm not sure what I was looking for, I just thought, maybe there was something that Public Safety might have missed—something I would understand that they didn't because it was my family, but all I found was an empty house.”

    It was hard to say the last line—but she would not cry, she'd cried enough on Morgana in the last months.

    Lancelot considered for a moment.

    “You think that your brother got involved in something, maybe some part of the resistance, and that's how your father got into that breakout from Care.”

    “It's a guess.” Gwen shrugged. “I didn't really understand what they fought about before Elyan left—now I think about it they were obviously trying to keep me out of it, but I remember Elyan acting like my dad was doing something wrong—I couldn't understand it because he was always so...good. I know he was my father, but...”

    “But, if your brother thought he was just part of the problem by not directly assisting whatever your brother's cause is...”

    “Exactly.” Gwen said. “That would hardly be an original reason for a father-son estrangement. I'm not sure what it would be exactly, if Elyan is out there in those riots for example, or just helping smuggle people out of the country before Public Safety gets them, but I'm almost convinced he must be involved in resisting in some way. Either Elyan got in with a bad crowd—like those people who kidnapped Morgana, and then blackmailed my father or...well...or what if...what if after I went to university my father tried to reconcile with Elyan? It could have been a grand gesture I suppose. I don't know, but I think they must be watching me very closely now, and I think Elyan must be in danger...if they haven't caught him already. They would tell me if he was dead I think, but not necessarily if they had captured him. I hate thinking about it. I want to find him so desperately, but even if I could—and I have no idea how—what if I just led them straight to him? I hate it because even figuring it out as much as I have, it doesn't help me at all. I don't know what to do!”

    Lancelot considered her for a moment. “Unfortunately, you're probably right. I know it's the last thing you want to hear, but it might be best to just finish your degree here for now. Once you finish at Camelot, you'll be in a better position to do something, and they might not be watching as closely if you seem a model citizen in the meantime. Keep your head down now, waiting, learning what you can—about everything, and as awful as it sounds—building your relationships with Arthur and Morgana. When they're done with university, they'll also be in better positions to help you. Besides, Somerset cannot stay in power forever, at the very least...he's getting old.”

    “Do you think anything will change when he leaves office?”

    “It might. From what I've seen, Arthur is cut from a different cloth. If Somerset is counting on him to take over...well, he might be disappointed. And Somerset is the real force behind it all, everyone else is either only in it for the power, or less charismatic about their beliefs. I don't think it will all come crashing down in a day—but I have to hope that after he leaves office, things will start to change. I don't think there's much you could do for your brother even if you could find him now, and trying to find him might get you both arrested. If he can hang on until you finish here...maybe then you could start to do something. If you want to.”

    “I do. I don't know what. I'd need to know what he was mixed up in for a start, but he's my brother. I want to help him, and he's the only family I have left.”

    Lancelot reached out to squeeze her hand. “But you do have friends here.”

    Gwen's cheeks grew warm. “Thank you, it means a lot that I can talk to you.”

    “Any time, Gwen. Any time.”

    Gwen wasn't sure what to make of Lancelot's advice. He had a point, of course, at present she really wasn't in a position to do much of anything for anyone. Her best chance for the power to do so, would come from creating a niche for herself as an adult. If she had a job and connections she'd have more options, and as much security as one could have under the current system. But she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe it seemed sound because she was actually a coward who just wanted to avoid doing anything dangerous or uncomfortable now. That added to her frustrated sense of impotence. Elyan was out there, somewhere, and she couldn't get to him. Whatever it was that had happened, even if all her guesses were wrong, she needed to find her brother.

    She sighed as she made her way back to her room. Morgana's door was half open, so she stuck her head in. Morgana was on her computer in her usual manner.

    “Hey,” Gwen smiled. Morgana half turned and gave her an answering smile, but it struck Gwen as false somehow, strained, the way Morgana sat primly and looked up kindly at Gwen—it was the way she looked at the other residents, not how she had previously looked at Gwen. It saddened Gwen that somehow their friendship seemed to be cracking. She had thought it solid, one of the few things she had left to count on.

    “How are you doing?” she asked politely.

    “Fine.” Morgana replied airily, turning back to the screen. “Just catching up on some articles for English, and yourself?”

    “Oh. I'm fine. I think I'll go start my Sociology paper actually. Want to get dinner later, maybe with the boys?”

    “Sure. That'd be nice.”

    “Lovely, see you later.”

    Gwen found her door open with her roommate inside, laying on her bed with a highlighter in her mouth, and a book on her pillow. Gwen took a deep breath and stamped down her feelings about the situation with Morgana. Morgana was very different from Gwen, and the fact that she needed time and space to cope with what happened to her instead of hugs and reassurances, didn't mean they weren't friends anymore. Morgana had struggled through giving Gwen what she had needed, and now it was Gwen's turn. So Gwen decided to actually start her paper.

    Just as Gwen completed typing up her heading and had begun to stare blankly at the screen, Morgana poked her head through the open door.

    “Gwen!” She looked concerned, and Gwen had stood up before Morgana could say anything else.

    “Come and see.” Morgana dashed back toward her room. Gwen followed, perplexed.

    Morgana had a full screen broadcast on her computer, and the Duke of Somerset was giving one of his familiar speeches. Morgana sat on her bed and gestured for Gwen to join her. Gwen sat down, beginning to listen:

    “...implement new policies designed to combat the tenacious threat of the organized resistance to this governments laws regarding the humane and necessary treatment of persons suffering from mental defects...”

    Morgana was rigid next to her, but Gwen had trouble focusing on the Duke's words, phrased as they were, and delivered in that tone...it was something most children learned to tune out, and becoming an adult didn't make the habit easy to break.

    “And so, in response to these pervasive threats now aimed directly at the government, we will be introducing a new office of Public Safety, the Office of Inquiries into Matters of Mental Subversion. This new office will be headed by...”

    “It's my fault.” Morgana whispered. Gwen frowned.

    “What do you mean? I think it is to do, at least a little, with you being kidnapped, but also what happened over the Holidays, and none of that is your fault Morgana. We all did everything we could, the people at fault were that horrible Doctor Nimueh and that Professor, and the people who kidnapped you.”

    Morgana didn't answer, she just stared at her hands.

    “...Inquisitors from the new Office will be conducting inquiries at all public institutions, including government offices, as well as any private institution that meets the new guidelines for investigation. They will also be interviewing public servants, and government employees at all levels. Additionally, a sub-office has been created to ensure the safety of our young people by conducting inquiries at all centers of education, including staff, educators, and students. We must not only uncover and remove all those with mental defects who are currently unmonitored from public spheres, but also those who shield them, and who act against the government's policies to ensure safety...”

    “Oh.” Gwen breathed. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

    “Yes.” Morgana said through clenched teeth. “It means they're going after everyone. And they'll be coming here.”


	5. Arthur's Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur ponders Merlin's habits and Morgana's distance but during a bit of football with his other mates is approached by a woman who promises to tell him about his mother.

Chapter 5

~*~Arthur~*~

 

   “Oh god no, get that out of your mouth.” Arthur sighed, tugging the highlighter Merlin had been chewing absently out of his grasp. “That one is mine.”

    “Sorry,” Merlin mumbled, still pouring over Arthur's notes, and grabbing a different highlighter from the table to drag across some of Arthur's pristine handwriting. He then dropped it and picked up his pen to scribble something above it. Merlin was so engrossed in his task, he didn't seem to notice that Arthur had never leaned back after his grab for the highlighter. Arthur felt like a thief, stealing the moment of closeness, but he just couldn't seem to sit back in his chair, staying pitched forward into Merlin's space. His arm was resting on the back of Merlin's chair.

    “You know, there's no point in this if you don't write legibly. What does that say?” Arthur practically put his chin on Merlin's shoulder. “Guinness Mountain jobless hat?”

    Merlin huffed and squirmed off his chair, toppling onto the ground. Arthur stared down at him, then offered him a hand. Merlin had a thing about personal space. He hardly ever said anything, but this was not the first time he'd fallen backing away from someone. It wasn't a constant thing, they'd been in each other's space plenty of times before, but there seemed to be a difference between crisis mode Merlin and everyday Merlin, and everyday Merlin wasn't a fan of people in his bubble. Arthur tried to respect it usually, but then Merlin would go and do something like put a highlighter in his mouth and move it slowly, tauntingly, and Arthur would lose his mind. Merlin accepted the hand, and Arthur hauled him back up and then sat very correctly in his own chair leaving plenty of room between them.

    “Guinness Mountain jobless hat?” Merlin complained. “It's not that bad—besides, can't you use your brain and figure it out? That doesn't make sense, what would in this context? At least guess something relevant.”

    “That was my best guess,” Arthur shrugged. “Before I tried to make it make sense it was just a bunch of squiggles, not letters of any kind. How did you get through school again?”

    “With better grades than you,” Merlin retorted, and picked up a highlighter to attack Arthur's notes again. Merlin had been aghast to discover that, rather than copy the notes down as they were given, Arthur tended to only write down the bits that seemed important at the time, and he often paraphrased things. That seemed to almost offend Merlin, and he'd insisted it was why he'd had gotten a full letter grade higher than Arthur in their biology class in the fall semester.

    “How do you even know this?” Arthur asked watching Merlin work. “You're not taking Ethics. You're studying rocks.”

    “I read your textbook.” Merlin seemed to be trying very hard not to chew the cap of the highlighter.

    “What?”

    “You left it on the chair last time, remember? I had to bring it to your room and give it to Leon while you were out. I read the chapters I thought you'd be on so I could fix your notes.”

    “Merlin, you're doing extra work to help me?”

    “No! I'm doing what needs to be done to fix these notes. Doesn't it bother you that they're incomplete, random, and sometimes wrong?”

    “What do you mean wrong—and no, not really. They don't have to be perfect, they're supposed to help me study, not ensure proper policy enforcement, or leave accurate records for posterity.”

    “Abomination.” muttered Merlin, forgetting and putting the highlighter in his mouth.

    “You're going to owe me knew highlighters.” Arthur said, trying to sound stern rather than fond.

    “This one is mine.” Merlin countered.

    “How can you tell anymore?” a new voice came as Lancelot drew even with their table. “You seem to have pooled school supplies. I seem to remember this whole thing started when you ended up with Merlin's notebook for one of his geology classes.”

    “It used to be easy.” Arthur grumbled. “Mine were the ones without teeth marks.”

    “Well, and yours are the ones with the posh foreign names.” Gwen added, coming up behind Lancelot. “ Merlin's are all the generic brand.”

    “See?” Merlin brandished the highlighter at Arthur. “100% domestic Albion product, and it has several layers of teeth marks on the cap. This one is mine.”

    Arthur rolled his eyes and snatched it out of Merlin's hands. “Just finish fixing my notes so I can study.”

    Gwen giggled and Lancelot gave them a little wave as he and Gwen moved away to their usual table. At first, Arthur had thought something was going on with them, and he he'd felt a bit protective of Gwen, as much as he liked Lancelot, but they never seemed to get past very tentative, preliminary sort of flirting. Mostly, they just seemed to talk quietly. He supposed Gwen needed more friends than just him and Merlin and Morgana, even male friends.

    He pulled out his math book, but it was impossible to concentrate while Merlin worked the highlighter in his mouth, muttering and occasionally using it to mark a place where he wanted to scribble extra notes for Arthur on some topic.

    He couldn't decide if this sort of thing meant Merlin liked him, or if it was exactly what he said it was: a desperate need to fix Arthur's notes. In any one else that would have been crazy, but with Merlin it was hard to tell. He really did seem to have vastly different priorities than most people. He really might be doing it for his own bizarre satisfaction rather than a desire to help Arthur, or spend time with him, or tease him with the things his lips did curled around the bright yellow plastic. He had, after all, fallen off his chair when Arthur had crowded in on him.

  


    “Oi, Pendragon, watch it, mate!” Pellinore called as Geraint managed to steal the ball from Arthur. He flashed a grin at Arthur as he made his way back down the pitch. Arthur gave an apologetic shrug to Pellinore. It was just a friendly match, they didn't have enough for proper sides. It was Geraint, Cai, and Cedric against Arthur, Leon, and Owain. Pellinore switched sides every three goals and was presently on Arthur's team. Vivian was watching from the side, huddled in her Lovelace fur jacket as well as Geraint's coat. But Pellinore always took football seriously, even if she was just kicking the ball around for fun.

    The pitch was muddy, and the net had been taken down for the winter. A spot of warm weather though meant it was just fair enough for a little fun. Vivian cringed every time Pellinore slid or did anything to get mud on her rather impressive outfit—silver leggings and leather mini skirt that match her fur lined coat. Pellinore liked to dress well, but again, everything was second to football for her. It probably had something to do with her parents never approving of her interests and actively discouraging—or forbidding her to have anything to do with football. Cai had won the right to date her by sneaking her to a qualifying match for the World Cup. That was no love match, more of a partnership with sex, but both their families approved the pairing. Cai was a distant cousin of Arthur's, he had neither the Pendragon name, nor the impressive lineage Arthur had, but he was heir to a considerable fortune. Pellinore, on the other hand, had the prestige, but no longer quite the funds—everyone knew, even though the Pellinore family carried on as if nothing was wrong. It was the old standby—spend on credit until an advantageous marriage could be arranged.

    Geraint however, couldn't get by Leon, who was playing keeper. Owain brought the ball back up and passed to Arthur. Arthur and Pellinore faced off against Cai, passing back and forth, also dodging Cedric and looking for their opening. Finally, pressed by Cedric, Arthur chanced it and took his shot.

    Arthur scored—or he would have, but someone dove into the goal and caught the ball, knocking into a distracted Cai—Pellinore still had that effect on him occasionally. The person was a woman, with blonde hair in loose curls falling around her shoulders. She smiled at Arthur triumphantly.

    “Doesn't seem fair, four on three, do you want another player?” she asked.

    “Who are you?” Cai asked, looking disgruntled.

    “The more the merrier!” Pellinore told the newcomer. “Viv never plays, I'd love to have another girl here to help me show these boys how it's done.”

    “Oh I think I can be of service,” the young woman smiled back at Pellinore. “I'm Morgause.”

    “Everyone just calls me Pellinore, my first name is some old family thing, it's a pain.”

    “I'm glad to meet you, Pellinore.” Morgause said. She tossed the ball to Arthur. “It was a decent shot.”

    “Thanks.” Arthur replied, not quite as thrown as Cai, but still a little confused by the turn of events. Play resumed, and Morgause proved at least as good as any of the rest of them—except possibly for Pellinore, who, they would never admit, actually always wiped the floor with all of them.

    Once they were all both too hot and too cold, breath clouding in puffs as they panted from the exertion, they decided to head in the the dining hall to warm up and refuel. Morgause bid them farewell, but gave Arthur a rather piercing and unsettling look as she sauntered away.

    As the heir to a duchy, and the son of an extremely powerful man, being approached by young women was nothing new or interesting for Arthur, but he had to admit this girl did take an interesting approach. After Sophia, he wasn't remotely interested in dating presently, but he did find her intriguing. She had quite literally come out of nowhere. In a strangely detached way he wondered what her game was, what she wanted exactly (money, power, bragging rights, tabloid fodder...), and what she would do next.

    As distracting as Merlin could be, working on his homework next to Arthur, tapping out his usual patterns, and scanning books and notes with his intense gaze while his fingers worked the strings of what had once been Arthur's hoody, Arthur couldn't fail to notice that Morgana was still having trouble re-acclimating to normal college life. His father had offered to let her take the semester off after the kidnapping, since she'd missed classes and had been clearly shaken by whatever had happened to her. But she had insisted on coming back to Camelot. Arthur had once or twice tried to talk to her about it, but she had smiled and said she was fine. She wasn't though, he could tell. He wasn't surprised—after the Solstice, it was just too much. That said, he wasn't sure how staying home organizing charity events or whatever his father would expect as acceptable occupation, would be very helpful to her.

    The odd thing was that after Nimueh, they had all seemed closer, all more concerned with each other. After he'd nearly died, everyone had been sort of clingy with him. He'd assumed now the focus would shift to Morgana—and he was partially right, Merlin and Morgana did spend more time together, but Gwen and Morgana seemed distant—and Morgana had withdrawn from him as well. He wondered if perhaps she might blame them, they had, afterall, left and not been around to realize she was missing. But Merlin had been at Camelot and not raised the alarm, and if anything they were now closer. It didn't make much sense to him, but he couldn't think what to do about it.

    Morgana got up and walked to the window, abandoning her homework entirely. Gwen sighed and looked at her, clearly considering whether or not to say something, but then she just went back to her own assignment. Merlin, ever focused, carried on with whatever it was he was doing with all those cross sections of mountains. Frustrated with his inability to concentrate, and annoyed at Morgana's distance, he excused himself to get a water from the vending machines.

    He swiped his campus ID card and punched in the numbers for the water. As the machine thumped and dropped the water into the retrieval place he heard someone come up behind him. He assumed it was just someone waiting for their turn with the machine, but,

    “Arthur Pendragon?”

    Arthur turned around to find Morgause watching him closely.

    “Morgause.” He blinked.

    “I was wondering if I might talk with you.”

    Arthur considered his options briefly, but settled on staying polite as long as possible.

    “Of course.”

    Morgause led him outside to stand in the courtyard.

    “I'm not certain how to say this,” she paused, still watching him. “It's a...sensitive thing.”

    “Please speak freely,” Arthur waved a hand, taking a sip of his water.

    “I knew your mother.”

    Arthur choked on his water. He stared at her, not only was this the last thing he expected, but she didn't look old enough.

    She seemed to guess at his train of thought because she added,

    “Not well, I was quite young, but I have a feeling there is a lot you don't know about her.”

    “Like what?” Arthur asked, his voice cold and rough from coughing.

    “She was very kind, very warm. She loved children...and she didn't have to die.”

    Arthur felt like his mind was sort of closing down. He wanted to talk to Morgause, to ask questions or scream at her, but it was sort of like his mind choking, but instead of some water he could cough up, it just kept closing off more and more. He shook himself slightly and swallowed, trying to fight his way back. He always felt guilty about his mother, the one time his father had ever really talked about her, he had told Arthur that she had died so he could live. It wasn't until several years later that he worked out what it meant—that she'd died giving birth to him, that he had killed her.

    “I don't expect you to take my word for it.” Morgause pressed, “I have documents...but more than that, more than the manner of her death, I have a few things that could help you know more about her life.”

    Arthur looked at Morgause, she was lithe and alive, a strange sort of energy hung behind her words, this was important to her for some reason.

    “Why?” he managed to get out, still fighting to make his brain work.

    “Because I knew he,.” Morgause said simply. “And it isn't right that you never did.”

    Could it be that simple?

    “Alright.” Arthur swallowed. “What do you want?”

    “I want you to come with me, we can't do this in the open. I want you to know the truth, Arthur, I owe your mother that. We all do. So much suffering has been caused in her name, and she would have hated every second of it.”

“I get to bring someone with me, someone I trust.” Arthur hedged. Going alone would be too stupid, even for the boy fluttering to the surface of his heart whose excitement and hope had woken in him a terrible recklessness. What wouldn't he do to hear more about his mother?

    Morgause did not look pleased, but finally nodded. “One other.”


	6. Gwen's Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes the revelations about his family badly, and his friends worry but it might be just what Gwen needed to hear.

Chapter 6

~*~ Gwen ~*~

 

“What  happened ?” Gwen asked in dismay. “He was happy, what, the day before yesterday?”

Morgana shook her head. “I am not sure Arthur has ever been happy, Gwen. But...”

Gwen watched Morgana struggle to organize her thoughts. She was worried, agitated, whipping a section of her hair through her hands, and generally carrying on more like Merlin than Gwen had ever seen her.

“There are no pictures of his mother in the house.” Morgana finally said, “Uther never speaks of her. She died when Arthur was born, and that's all he knew, that's...it. Just her name, some details about her family tree, and that she was dead. Uther took her death extremely hard, but what everyone except us apparently knows is that...”

Gwen almost held her breath waiting for Morgana to finish, but Morgana seemed to be having trouble getting it out.

“Her death started everything.” Morgana tripped over the words. “Public Safety, his crusade against people who...well, you know. They had terrible trouble conceiving Arthur you see, and Uther wanted an heir....so they tried different doctors, different treatments, but in the end they sought out some experimental treatment by Dr. Cara Nimueh...”

“Oh my.” Gwen gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. “You can't mean...he blamed her for his wife's death? That's what all of this is about, it's...some kind of...revenge or... or....”

Gwen sank back, sitting in Morgana's computer chair, facing the older girl on the bed. Her mind raced, adding a new layer to the whole mystery, connecting in new ways her family tragedy with Arthur's. The more pieces she managed to find, the more it looked like a puzzle pointing to something very different than she'd ever imagined. When she'd first heard the news of her father's death and been dragged off to be questioned, she'd believed what she'd always been told: people with mental defects were dangerous, and had to be found and managed by the government or they would cause chaos and pain. She'd thought it all had to be a mistake, that her father could never be involved in trying to set loose such dangerous criminals. But more and more it started to look like everything she had believed was a lie, or at least much less simple than she had understood it to be. And the more it looked like her father might have done what he had on purpose, of his own will, and for good reason.

And yet...that did not excuse what happened at the Solstice, what had happened to Morgana, the chaos and death in the latest riot where the army had been called in to stop people from looting shops and destroying property...it was all so muddled and confused.

“...where she came from, but she had all these documents, confidential medical things, signed by Uther and Ygraine, consent forms and test results, and pictures. She even had an ultrasound of Arthur in his mother's womb.” Morgana was chewing her lower lip in between little fits of talking. Gwen had missed something but didn't dare ask Morgana to go back. “And...Arthur drank it all in at first, not really paying attention to what they meant, but...in the end...he got it. I mean, we don't really know what happened, perhaps his mother really wanted children herself, bad enough to...but Morgause made it sound like he as good as killed her, Gwen, just to get an heir. And...well, you've never heard him go on at Arthur about the importance of the family line, of Arthur making a good match and having a bunch of children. He's never said anything outright, but I think he knows Arthur fancies men as well as women.”

“He does?” Gwen asked, confused, distracted, and not really attending. Her mind had spiraled in an empathetic tangle. Poor Arthur, no wonder his behavior had become so troubling.

“Of course he does,” Morgana sighed, a slight return to her usual tone. “Thus his preoccupation with Merlin. But the worst part is that everyone else knows, Gwen. They know, and they let Uther carry on anyway. Some are just that easily led, they really believe it, but mostly everything that's happened in the last 18 years has been for power.”

Gwen buried her head in her hands. What a mess. Somehow, her friend, her family, and the whole country were a terrible, terrible mess and she couldn't seem to focus on anything—should she be more concerned with what this meant for her brother and how she understood her father? Or should she be outraged as a citizen, and worried for her country and everyone in it? Or should she be more focused on Arthur—lost and alone now, with a terrible confused burden that he apparently tried, and failed, to drink away the night before?

“...really...strange. I felt like I knew her somehow, and that ought to make me suspicious but...it doesn't. I ought to be upset that she told Arthur all that—what good could she really expect to come of it?...but I don't. I...just don't know. I want to trust her for some reason.”

Gwen stared at Morgana for a moment, but her brain had finally picked what to focus on, and it was not the strange woman with her inexplicable access to confidential documents. It was Arthur, because he was her friend, and in pain--and possibly trouble.

“We should call Merlin.” Gwen said.

Morgana shook her head. “I don't want to put this on him, you remember what happened last time. He get's so sick every time something dramatic happens.”

Gwen frowned. She had thought Morgana didn't seem to care when the pathetically exhausted and ill Merlin had offered one word punctuations to Morgana's request that Gwen lie for them about who had overheard Sophia and her father. She'd also thought Arthur would take priority for her too in this instance. She was stabbed with that peculiar feeling of not understanding something important, at the same time a tinge of jealousy seeped through her cracks. Her mind was too full, and she couldn't spare the effort to sort out what might or might not be going on with Morgana and Merlin.

“Well...” Gwen began reasonably. “It's just that, Merlin knows where Arthur went last time, the places and the people he was with, I mean, we can't ask Sophia. And if he's not out with his usual friends...”

Morgana shook her head. “After last night, Geraint forbade them to go out drinking with Arthur. They're all worried.”

“Then the only one who might know where he might go, if drowning his sorrows is his aim, is Merlin.”

Morgana pulled out her phone. “He's going to go after him you know, the idiot. He won't just tell us and let us go, or send Leon and Geraint. He's going to go himself and get sick again.”

“Arthur is his friend too.” Gwen pointed out.

“Yes.” Morgana agreed absently, poking at her phone.

  


In the end, Morgana was right. Merlin had insisted on looking for Arthur himself, despite Morgana using a very stern tone to try to persuade him to just tell Leon everything he knew. Gwen had chimed in to remind him that Lancelot would help if he could, but she didn't think it made much difference. She'd wanted to wait up with Morgana for news, but Morgana had pointed out that Gwen had a quiz at nine in the morning and should sleep. Gwen would have stayed anyway, but something in Morgana's manner made her feel...almost dismissed. She sighed, but reminded herself that Morgana was worried too, and unlike Gwen, she preferred to be emotional in private.

And so she was left alone, with the implications of everything she had learned—that it was growing ever more possible that rather than Elyan getting involved in the wrong thing, and her father being coerced into something terrible, that Elyan had seen rightly that things were not as they should be, and that her father had eventually agreed to help out of decency. It was looking more and more like the real villain was Duke Uther Pendragon of Somerset, and his campaign against those with mental defects.

Which is how Gwen ended up in the library rather than her room, walking along the shelves wondering where to begin. Only one of the libraries was open all night, and she wasn't sure if it was the right one. Where would they keep the books she needed? Would they even have them at all? Morgana could make the school computers delete things like book or web searches, but Gwen couldn't. Given that she was, no doubt, being monitored, there was no way she could just type what she wanted into a computer.

Gwen needed to find out the truth about mental defects. She needed to know if what she suspected was true, that the real insanity was of the state, and not the people rounded up and put into Care like Mordred. That poor boy—and she'd been afraid of him. She was ashamed of herself, right down to her core, over Mordred. She had helped, but she'd been so afraid, so reluctant. And there he had been, standing before her wearing those injuries, practically a neon sign telling her that everything she knew was wrong, and she hadn't even really seen him. She remembered how he had reacted to her, and felt he must have known somehow, probably because that fear reminded him of whoever had hurt him. They must have feared him too, or hated him, to hurt him like that. How could anyone ever do something like that to a child?

She was still afraid, though not of Mordred. No, she was afraid of many other things. Of being caught, because she could be, and what good would that do anyone? She had to be careful, not just for her own sake, but because if she was ever going to do anything about what she learned, she had to be free to do it. She was afraid of what it would mean for her friendship with Arthur and Morgana since whatever they now knew, Somerset was still their guardian. She was afraid for them, caught between people so desperate to get at Somerset they would poison Arthur and abduct Morgana—and the man himself, the one who had started it all in his grief.

She shook her head and tried to focus on the books in front of her, looking for some clue as to what section she was in and how that might relate to books on mental defects. But luck was with her as her eyes fell on a spine that read “Common Psychological Disorders and Treatments”. Gwen had a place to start.


	7. Merlin's Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has to rescue Arthur again, but this time it may cost Merlin more than a cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (warning: Merlin describes panic/anxiety attacks a bit...and has one)

Chapter 7

~*~Merlin~*~  


    The day had started well enough, he'd gone over to check on Morgana before his classes. He did that a lot now, though he could tell it was starting to annoy her.

    “No, I've been doing alright, really.” Morgana told an agitated Merlin, trying to pace in her small room.

    “Good...” He paused briefly to study her shoes. “This isn't going to be easy—and it's dangerous for both of us.”

    “We're in this together now, Merlin.” Morgana replied. “Whether we like it or not. I know it must be hard for you—you've kept this secret for so long. Have you ever told anyone?”

    Merlin swallowed. “Once.”

    “What happened?”

    “My mum _cried_.” He mumbled, resuming his three steps forward, sharp turn, and three steps back.

    “He never told though. He wouldn't. But I got lucky. You can't ever tell anyone— _anyone_.”

    “I know. You've said that about a hundred times, Merlin, and I am not an idiot. I grew up with Uther, do you really think I don't understand?” She snapped, weariness in her voice.

    “I know, I know, I'm sorry. This is worse for you, I know.” Merlin was just frustrated—he had no idea how to handle the situation, and it was confusing to be connected to Morgana in that way—to be in it together, whether they liked it or not, instead of by choice as they had been before. Why did it seem to negate the choice?

    “I did want to apologize for trying to make you befriend Arthur—and for the Solstice. You're braver than I would be.” She relented, changing the subject and softening her tone.

    “I didn't have a choice.” Merlin's hands worked the strings of his hoody furiously. “And...everything is ok, I mean, so far...”

    Morgana gave a hollow laugh. “Do you know what he did to them, Uther I mean? The ones he caught?”

    Merlin swallowed. “I tried to figure out how to warn you, I tried to...”

    “I know. It's not on you Merlin. It's not even really on me, though I did make things worse. It's Uther. But still...I can't help it. I only hope Mordred is alright. I can't manage to hope for the others, it's too unlikely, but the idea that he might be back in one of those places...”

    “You said Public Safety didn't catch him.” Merlin's breath caught.

    “Not that I saw, but he's on the run, alone...anything could happen to him.”

    Merlin shared a disturbed silence with her for a time.

    “I wish I could be more help,” he finally said. “But I have no idea how to tell you how I do what I do, or even if it would work for you if I could. And sometimes I can't—that's how I met Lancelot. It was just before they lifted the lockdown, and I'd been trying so hard living on Arthur's floor, and I just needed to be free so badly...I thought I picked a good place no one would look. But he found me.”

    “It might sound strange, but honestly just knowing has helped.” Morgana said. “At first it made everything worse, I was so scared—of myself most of all. But I've always wondered if Uther was right, if everything was the way he said, and then I met those people, and Mordred, and you...and I guess I sort of realized I'd known all along that he was wrong about everything. And that means there's no need to be afraid of myself, and suddenly things just...seem clearer. I always knew I was different, it was obvious. But now I know why, and I know it's...it's ok.”

    “It is. We're not broken, we're not dangerous, we're not defective. We're just people.”

    “That gives me some peace. As much as I have always defied him, I was not immune to feeling like Uther's standards were some kind of absolute measure—one I always fell short of. I'd begun making new standards, my own, but still...I may not be Arthur, but he still affected me.”

    “Of course he did.” Merlin said gently. “They were your family, for better or worse.”

    “What do you do when your only family in the world would have you dragged away and tortured if they knew who you really were?”

    “I don't know.” Merlin confessed. “My mum has fought for me every moment since she realized.”

    “Your mum is amazing.”

    “She is. But...you have me now. I guess you're used to strange pseudo-brothers anyway.”

    “I suppose I am. No offense, but I actually always wanted a sister.”

    “Me too.” Merlin gave her shoes a small smile.

 

 Okay, perhaps that wasn't actually that great of a start to the day, but given where things ended up, it certainly seemed it.

 

    “You cannot keep doing this.” Merlin panted, Arthur's arm slung over his shoulder as he dragged him down the sidewalk. “You cannot hide from your problems in alcohol or whatever else you may have been doing before I got there.”

    “Needed ta make it stop.” Arthur murmured, bleary eyed.

    “Like I said, hiding. Running away. I know university has this reputation for...parties and things, but I'm serious. This has to stop. It's not healthy. And it scares me. I hate those places, Arthur. I don't want to have to keep dragging you out of them.”

    “Mm father killed mm-mother.” Arthur slurred.

    “What.” Merlin grunted as Arthur stopped moving his feet and just sort of draped himself over Merlin.

    “She died in childbirth, but they knew she would. Was to get an heir.”

    “That's...” Merlin was brought up short. Arthur was heavy, they were out in the open, and Arthur seemed to be trying to cover as much of Merlin as possible, which was making him panic.

    “Horrible.” Arthur finished for him, burying his face in Merlin's neck. Merlin dropped him on the ground.

    “Ow.” Arthur said sadly, but without much feeling.

    “Sorry.” Merlin took a deep breath and wiggled to get the feeling of Arthur off his skin. “You're heavy. And it is sort of horrible, but why is it making you do stupid things now?”

    “Jus' found out.” Arthur replied. “Can I go back now? Still thinking. Need ta stop.”

    “Oh no. You are not going back, you are coming with me.” Merlin offered his hand to Arthur.

    “Would you come after me if I went back?”

    “Yes. Now get up.”

    “Why?” Arthur accepted Merlin's hand, but offered almost no help as Merlin struggled to haul him to his feet.

    “Because.” Merlin pulled Arthur's arm over his shoulder again, swallowing down the urge to scream or dump him on the ground again. It was hard enough dealing with all the contact, but it was worse than usual with Arthur, it always was. He was a whole extra set of confusing sensations.

    “ 'S not an answer.”

    “Shut up, Arthur. Walk.” Merlin pulled Arthur onward.

    “Remembered mm-pants this time. Promised. Kept it.”

    “Yes, good.” Merlin could feel the heat in his cheeks. “Now make me a new one.”

    “Anything for you.” Arthur purred nuzzling at Merlin's ear. Merlin nearly dropped him again, and barely muffled a squawk.

    “Promise me you'll never do this again. The next time you feel you need to drown your brain, come to me first and just tell me what's wrong, and we'll come up with something else.”

    “Yer blushing.”

    “You're drunk, you can't even see straight.”

    “Rrr you thinking of me without my pants?”

    “Oh god, I will drop you and leave.”

    “Because is not an answer.” Arthur, blissfully, apparently couldn't keep hold of a train of thought for very long.

    “I would go back for you because we're friends.”

    “No, about the hoody.”

    “What?”

    “Why was yer hoody special?”

    “This one is special because you gave it to me.” Merlin tried to deflect him.

    “I like to see you in it.” Arthur nibbled Merlin's ear. Merlin shrieked like a wet cat.

    “What are you doing?”

    “Making you match the hoody. Yer so red. I like you red. I like you a lot. Yer pretty all red.”

    “Shut up and pray you don't remember this in the morning. And do not do that again. Keep your mouth to yourself.”

    “I like your mouth.”

    Merlin whimpered. “Just stop, please.”

    “Sorry.” Arthur pulled back slightly, still leaning on Merlin, but not pressing into him as purposefully. “Thought you liked it.”

    “Whether I like it or not doesn't matter because you are not in your right mind. You don't know what you're saying or doing, and you would never behave this way sober. So it doesn't count. Like last time, none of this counts.”

    “Don't remember last time.”

    “You won't remember this time either, most likely.”

    “You should tell me. Or I won't know I promised. I wanna keep my promises.”

    “That would be awkward.”

    “Can't stop thinking about it.”

    “What, the promise?”

    “No, why I was born. How. Why mm-father is the way he is.”

    Merlin didn't know what to say to that. “When I need to control my thoughts, I think about canals.”

    “Camels have humps.”

    “Ugh, no, canals, like artificial channels, or, um rivers, artificial rivers.” Now was not the time to be using correct terminology. Arthur wouldn't understand it or care on a good day, stumbling drunk he certainly wouldn't.

    “Wh's there ta think about?” Arthur yawned.

    “Well, they're man made. So do they count? Rivers are...rivers are right, they're good. They flow, and make sense, and feel right. But canals...canals cut through a basin, they...they go against the grain of the land, sort of, um. But they're still water. I'm trying to make it simple so you'll understand, but it's...it's something I can just focus on, and think about, and think about, and go in circles and spirals and block everything else out.”

    “I don't think I like canals.”

    “Me either sometimes. At least navigations go parallel to the land.”

    “How could he do it? If he loved her so much he wouldn't marry someone else, why did he have to kill her?”

    “You need to find your canals, Arthur. What can you think about that makes everything else irrelevant? What distracts you?”

    “You. But you said to stop.”

    “You think about me in circles and spirals?”

    “Sometimes.”

    Merlin swallowed. “Uh, like...what do you...think about...?”

    “You don't like me. And it's good because it can't work. But I want it to, but it can't.”

    “Oh.” Merlin's breath caught.

    “You don't want people near you, but you let me sometimes, and you put highlighters in your mouth, and you didn't let me die even though stress gives you colds. You wear my hoody.”

    Merlin squinted at Arthur's dorm, growing ever nearer, but not fast enough.

    “Yer just out of reach, and I know I shouldn't try to touch you. I'm sorry I touched you. But yer just so beautiful. You read my textbooks, and fix my notes, and I think I'm in love with you.

    The thing was, he was supposed to be trying to help and protect Morgana. She might be a year older than him, but her lack of experience with actively coping with her situation within the world, made Merlin sort of think of her like Mordred, a little bit like a child. Except that when he didn't know what to do or where to go, he ended up, just as when he found Mordred, at her door, panicked, and hoping she would some how fix everything.

    She hadn't fixed everything with Mordred, but she had done a hell of a lot really—she'd looked after him and somehow managed to keep him hidden even when they went door to door looking for him. And she'd done everything she could to help even after she'd fallen out of the tree. She was strong, he realized, incredibly strong, and that was half the reason he ended up knocking on her door at 4:21 in the mourning.

    “Merlin!” she hissed and pulled him inside, closing the door with a quick look at the empty hallway. “What are you doing? What's wrong?”

    Merlin just leaned against the wall beside the door and slid down it, put his head in his hands, and started shaking.

    There was a whole variety of anxiety attacks he could have. There was the full fledged sort of panic attack like Morgana had had where he had to find someplace low and small to pull himself in and ride through the waves of terror and shaking, the feeling of utter loss of control over everything, the inability to move or speak, where focusing on his breathing was a struggle, and there was no hope. But there were milder versions of that, the kind he could actually have in a classroom full of people. Where if he concentrated very hard, he just seemed inattentive while he shook inside and heard nothing going on around him. There were the kind where he could offer up a few rote responses to things while his mind found all the exits and planned his escape but he was too terrified to move as he said whatever he thought the people around him wanted to hear. Sometimes there was a trigger—something that set him off that he could pinpoint, but sometimes there was nothing. Sometimes he was fine and then all of a sudden he was overcome with fear, fear that felt so real his mind latched onto the first thought he had as the cause, and he spent a half an hour being terrified the clock was going to eat him—not because he truly believed it would happen but because he couldn't handle the fact that he was panicking over nothing. That had only happened a few times, less now that he understood it and could work himself through the science of what was happening to him when his panic attacks came out of nowhere.

    There was no right way, no set way to panic and he just went to pieces on Morgana's floor, shaking some, tears leaking down his cheeks, and unable to say anything, even though he knew he had to be freaking her out. He couldn't even get his hands on his hoody strings—Arthur's hoody strings. Merlin nearly threw up at that thought.

    “Merlin.” Morgana said quietly, clearly trying to be gentle. “I need you to tell me if Arthur is ok. You can just nod, just...anything.”

    Merlin forced his head to twitch. He wasn't sure it counted as a nod, but it was all he could managed.

    “I am so sorry.” She whispered. “I told you, you didn't have to go. I...”

    But she broke off, or Merlin's brain turned her voice off, he wasn't sure. He couldn't think, and the worst part was that he'd offered up so much of himself that he had nowhere to retreat to. He was wearing Arthur's hoody, and now canals would forever make him think of Arthur. He needed to guard his safe places more closely, but it was too late. What did he have to cling to now?

    In a sudden fit of activity he managed to wrestle himself out of the hoody and fling it away. It landed on Morgana's bed. He pulled his knees to his chest and held his breath. Everything needed to stop, everything, breathing, heart beats, thoughts, everything. If it didn't stop he would die.

    But he couldn't make it stop, and soon he was gasping, shaking, leaking tears, digging his fingers into the flesh of his calves. He found a lull then, not an end to the terror, not an end to the attack, but a brief space of hope that things might get better eventually, and he noticed Morgana watching him from the furthest corner of her room. He supposed she was giving him space—or needed it herself. He was grateful, whether she did it for him or not.

    “Sorry,” he croaked, guiltily.

    She shook her head. “It's ok.”

    But it wasn't. Nothing would be ok again.

  



	8. Morgana's Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin manages to tell Morgana the worst of it and Morgana receives a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I apologize for this chapter and also at least the next one, I would promise things would get better but...I don't know if they will or not...)

Chapter 8  
~*~Morgana~*~

    Morgana had never seen Merlin go to pieces before. She'd seen people break down a few times, at school or at uni, but never to the degree of the shaking, miserable boy on her floor. When she'd worried about him going after Arthur, she hadn't known to fear this. She'd only thought that the stress of it all would make him sick again—or slip up in some way. It was so easy to see once you knew to look for it: his repetitive motions, the way he avoided eye contact and casual touches, how his muscles tensed when he forced himself not to react when he couldn't avoid it, the way he moved...everything. And yet, he was no different than before. He was still Merlin, still an avid Doctor Who fan and geology nerd, still the boy who'd tried to help Gwen though he barely knew her, and who'd brought Mordred to her as well.

    And she truly wished she knew what to do to help him, but she was at a loss. She'd known how to help Gwen whenever the younger girl had been grieving. Gwen was simple—she just needed a touch and a kind word, she drew strength from feeling cared about and less alone. Morgana often knew how to help her residents as well—not always right away, but she figured out which ones needed kind words and which needed firmness, which needed to be touched and which she could just talk to. She supposed she'd learned all that over the years from watching and listening and reading, drinking in a culture focused around people like Gwen and Arthur. The only guide to Merlin she had was herself, and she knew so little about herself anymore that she was afraid to trust it. Besides, both Merlin and Aglain had stressed how individual they were. Mordred had seemed to understand her though. It seemed unimaginable that a child so abused was still capable of compassion, but that is part of what helped her finally accept that there was nothing to fear in being autistic. If Mordred could try to comfort her, despite everything that had happened to him and everything he was dealing with, then he couldn't be the monster Uther claimed they all were. Nor was Merlin, or any of the others she'd known so briefly with the Druids. And thus, nor was she.

    Merlin let out a little sob, and Morgana tensed. Perhaps if she could understand what was wrong—for this was clearly more than just the stress of going into some party to drag Arthur out—she would know what to do.

    “Can you tell me what happened at all?” she asked tentatively. She wished this was something that could be conveyed with Mordred's picture pad, but she didn't have one, and wasn't sure Merlin would like using one even if it had the right pictures for this kind of situation. Some how she imagined him being too impatient and precise to appreciate how freeing it could be.

    “Leon has him.” Merlin replied, his voice raw and quiet.

    “Good, but I meant, what happened to you. You said Arthur was ok, and I believe you. You, however, are not. I can just be quiet if that's better...”

    Merlin closed his eyes for a long moment. “You're not my R.A.”

    That threw her for a moment. Merlin didn't have a resident adviser, he lived off campus with Gaius. But he was, in his own way, using a picture pad after all. He couldn't get out long, detailed sentences, so he was giving her something else. But, like pointing to the pictures, it meant she had to puzzle out what he meant.

    “I'm your friend.” She replied. Merlin was hesitating to share his troubles because he didn't feel like that was the sort of relationship they had—he wasn't some freshman on her floor who'd failed all her classes that Morgana had to deal with. She supposed he might even feel like he wasn't supposed to give her any more to worry about, given she did have a lot going through her mind. But Merlin didn't have anyone here, no friends she knew of other than her, Gwen, and Arthur. She supposed he'd never had many close friends...and she realized she hadn't either.

    “We're in this together, all of it.” She added.

    “Arthur's bi.”

    “Oh.” She knew, and she knew he seemed to have an attraction—or crush, for Merlin. She supposed that might be quite uncomfortable if Arthur was drunk, and thus handsy, or vocal, or both. But looking at the tears sliding down Merlin's face, she figured it had to be worse somehow.

    “He didn't, ah, do anything extremely inappropriate, did he?”

    Merlin made a noise, not quite hysterical, not quite a sob. But she couldn't decipher it. She supposed her experience with the drunken antics of college students thus far should have convinced her that anyone was capable of anything, but she couldn't see Arthur trying anything seriously bad with Merlin. So she waited.

    “He...” Merlin swallowed, “...said...he l-loved me.”

    Morgana gaped.

    “Oh Arthur.” She buried her head in her hands. Stupid Arthur, unknowingly going all Romeo and Juliet on poor Merlin. And, given what he'd just been through, the shock, the loss...she couldn't imagine. Well, she could, actually, she realized, she'd recently found out something life altering as well. She supposed that since her reaction had resulted in several innocent people being put in prison, Arthur's actions were at least no worse.

    But then her brain flicked back to Merlin, and she looked up at him. Why would a drunken confession send Merlin over the edge? Even if Arthur remembered, it would perhaps be a bit awkward but...

    But perhaps the feelings were not totally unrequited. Morgana was struggling with how she could prompt Merlin to clarify that point gently when he spoke again,

    “He was so upset. He said I was his canals. He was scaring me, he was so...broken. I think it was hurting him, not just normal hurt, but the kind you don't get better from, the kind that makes him like his father, I couldn't stand that, so I...”

    It came out in a rush, he stumbled over words, and stuttered, and Morgana was glad he paused so she could figure out what he was talking about. The part about canals didn't really make sense, but the rest of it she had, more or less, deciphered when he finally finished,

    “I told him it was another trick.”

    “What?” Morgana's stomach dropped, surely he did not mean what she thought he meant. She'd been there with Arthur when Morgause had showed them the documents. She'd seen with her own eyes—and had already been told by Aglain, it was true and it was so very important.

    “I told him it was just another political thing, someone going after his father through him, that it was probably all forged.”

    “No, you didn't, you can't have.” Morgana breathed.

    Arthur was upset—of course he was, and she was worried about him, but...this was too important. This wasn't about Arthur, it was about the lives of millions of people, people who had been unfairly imprisoned, tortured, discriminated against, who had lived in fear like Merlin, or watched their families torn apart. Arthur was...hope. He'd have his father's seat in parliament one day, he'd have all the weight of the Pendragon name, and all the prestige and the respect...he couldn't be allowed to believe in his father's cause.

    Merlin didn't reply, he just went on shaking and breathing in fits of measured rhythm and loss of control, his eyes empty but leaking tears.

    She never had to find the words to ask him how he felt about Arthur, he'd explained himself. Because Merlin knew as well as she did that they needed Arthur on their side, and now Merlin had lied to him just to make Arthur feel better. She wasn't sure if she'd ever forgive him for it, as much as she still felt for him as he sat on her floor, miserable, having dug his own grave.

    “Morgana?” a voice she didn't recognize came from behind her. Morgana turned to face Morgause, the woman that had brought Arthur the truth. Morgana had almost forgotten her, despite the strange feelings she had invoked in Morgana. They were hard to place, but it felt something like deja vu, and made her mind race trying to figure out why the sense of familiarity existed, and why it disturbed her so much.

    “Morgause,” Morgana responded warily, glancing around the courtyard.

    “I'm sorry to trouble you, but I can't get in touch with Arthur. I know what I showed him was upsetting, but I also hoped to talk to him about what kind of person Ygraine was, he seemed to honestly know nothing about her.”

    “He doesn't.” Morgana sighed. “But he won't talk to you...things have gotten...complicated.”

    Morgause frowned. “I knew it was possible he wouldn't want to talk to me, but I had hoped...”

    “He took it really hard.” Morgana explained, “You have to understand, his father is all he has. To accept that...it was too much. I'll do what I can, but for now, denial is all that's keeping him together.”

    “He has you.” Morgause pointed out. “He insisted on bringing someone he trusted with him, which was smart. He chose you.”

    “He does have me, but...we've never really been close like that. I know no one ever really chooses their family, but we were sort of thrown together.”

    “How so?” Morgause seemed intrigued.

    “Uther Pendragon is my guardian. He took me in after my father died.”

    “Oh, I'm sorry about your father.”

    “Thank you. But that household did not foster closeness of any kind.”

    “I would imagine not. I hope you will tell Arthur to contact me if he's ever ready.”

    “Of course.”

    “Also...I apologize if this seems strange, but I noticed you twirling your hair while you were going over the documents. It reminded me of how I used to fidget when I was younger. I thought you might like this.”

    Morgause offered her a bracelet, which Morgana took to examine more closely. It was pretty, but more than that, it was complex. It had different links and pieces that fit together in interesting ways. It felt good in her hands, she moved it through her fingers and it moved together, shifting it's shape in a fluid motion.

    “Sometimes it helps to keep your hands busy, and that can be hard on your hair.”

    Morgana nodded, the pieces she usually twirled could show the wear if she wasn't careful—it also tended to knot more easily.

    “Thank you.” Morgana said, not able to bring herself to refuse it. “It will be especially useful for those times I have to have my hair up.”

    Morgause smiled kindly, “That too. It was my mother's, and she gave it to me when I was little to help me learn to keep my hands out of my hair, and to stop clicking pens, things like that.”

    “Oh,” Morgana was suddenly unsure. “You may want to keep it then—it's good to have things that belonged to your parents.”

    “It is, but she'd want it to do good. I don't really need it any more, and we orphans should help each other, don't you think?”

    Morgana had to nod because she was caught—it was clearly what Morgause wanted her to do—to take the bracelet, and yet, she had just admitted her mother was dead. How could she give it away? But perhaps, unlike Morgana, Morgause had many mementos of her family.

    “It can't have been easy for you, growing up as Pendragon's ward. I can't imagine it.”

    “It wasn't a warm upbringing, but I was well tutored. And it will all be over soon anyway, when I reach my majority.”

    “I hope you'll make the most of your life Morgana, I think you could do great things if you put your mind to it.”

    “Oh, I intend to.” Morgana smiled back.

   

 


	9. Arthur's Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur notices that every time he thinks they're taking a step forward, Merlin takes two steps back. He then comes to a ridiculous conclusion and acts accordingly.
> 
> Or, Arthur is a prat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this whole next arc is unpleasant, but I swear there's a reason for everything and apologize in advance)

Chapter 9

~*~Arthur~*~

 

    Arthur threw up. Again. Things were extremely confused in his mind, which also hurt and thus really did not want to think. But he was very sure that Merlin had been the one to find him and take him back to his dorm. He also seemed to remember Merlin pointing out, reasonably, that the documents Morgause had showed him might have been forged, and before he drank himself to death he should consider the number of plots aimed at using him and Morgana against Uther afoot lately. Additionally, he had several sneaking suspicions without any real focus to them: that he confessed to feelings he hadn't even been sure he had, and that he'd made Merlin stay with him until he fell asleep.

    He threw up again.

    “Oi.” Geraint said, coming into the bathroom. “Leon just called to ask me if I think you need an intervention.”

    “Hrrrugh,” echoed Arthur's reply from the toilet.

    “Yeah, I thought you might feel that way. Here's the thing though, he also let slip that some friend of yours I've never heard of went and got you last night. Which is pretty interesting since none of us had any idea where you were, and this guy apparently did. Also, I got this kind of feeling that this has happened before. So I'm kinda wondering about this friend, and your relationship, and if that has anything to do with this.”

    “No.” Arthur said weakly. “This was about my father, and probably about me being a pillock.”

    “I see.” Geraint mused. “Are you going to promise to remember the rules, or do I have to tell Leon to go ahead and organize that intervention?”

    “Moderation, safety, and never alone.” Arthur mumbled. It had been the rules he and the lads (which included Pellinore, and to some extent Vivian) had agreed on for their college antics. Those rules didn't apply to going out with Sophia, or at least the last one. Steady partners counted as not alone, at least after they had been introduced to everyone else. Besides, they had gone to some of the parties with him and Sophia, just not all of them.

    “Good. This is your one warning. They may be your rules but you don't get to break them, or we have to step in. We are your friends, even if our fathers did arrange the whole thing so we could spy on each other.”

    Which was true. Gertaint's father would like nothing better than to replace Uther—or at least eclipse him in power, and both men had instructed their sons to make friends for political reasons. Unfortunately, instead of barely tolerating each other, which would have made it easier, they actually got along. Geraint was even sort of Arthur's best friend, if he could be said to have such a thing.

    “You may be too late, I may be dying now. I think my head is dead.”

    “Alas, no.” Geraint chuckled. “You'll live. Seriously though, next time you're going to be a pillock, talk to someone about it. If it can't be us then this other bloke, I don't care. It's no fun if I win because you die.”

 

There was a large part of Arthur that wanted to pretend it never happened, or at least that he couldn't remember any of it. That part was happy to focus on whether or not he thought Morgause was using forged and manipulated documents with some well placed comments to turn him against his father in yet another bizarre attempt to use him, or Morgana, as weapons against Uther. It had seemed so real, and it had made a certain amount of sense. But, so did Merlin's explanation. Asking his father was....out of the question.

    _'Because you're a coward,'_ the other part of him said.

    That part wanted to drive to the capital, if that's where his father was, and demand the truth. And that part wanted to talk to Merlin about what he'd said, and explain it wasn't just drunken ramblings, but probably true. That part wanted to ask Merlin for the world even though it wasn't fair. Because he wasn't at all sure how Merlin felt but he did know the outcome of the relationship, even if the fact that Merlin had found him, taken him home, and then stayed with him meant what Arthur hoped it meant.

    So he stayed in bed, conflicted but resigned not to run away from the problems by trying to make his brain turn off. That had to count for something, right?

 

**To Merlin:** Thanks again.

 **To Merlin:** And I'm sorry about anything I may have said or done.

 **To Merlin:** I don't remember things very clearly, but I'm pretty sure I was an ass.

 **To Merlin:** But I do remember that you stayed when I asked you to.

 

_**From Merlin:** you promised me you'd never do it again, and then you told me I had to tell you so you could keep it_

**To Merlin:** I don't remember that, but from now on I drink only in moderation if at all, and only with my mates who can watch out for me.

_**From Merlin:** good._

**To Merlin:** are we good?

_**From Merlin:** yeah, I guess. Just, seriously, never do that to me again, Arthur._

**To Merlin:** that sort of depends on what you mean...

 **To Merlin:** since I think I said some things, that while I did not mean to say, were true and I don't want to promise never to say them again.

 

    Arthur deleted it and rewrote it twice before he finally hit send. He wasn't sure if Merlin took a long time to reply, or if it only seemed like it.

 

_**From Merlin:** you said a lot of things, clotpole, and some of it you should probably never say again, but some of it was kind of important_

_**From Merlin:** but don't try to turn your brain off again, you need it, and you should use it_

_**From Merlin:** for everyone's sake._

 

    Arthur frowned at that. It was too ambiguous, given what they had talked about—other than his feelings for Merlin. Were the things he should never say again the things he had believed about his father? Or what he had confessed to Merlin? And why did Merlin have to be vague about it? He was usually so blunt and straightforward. It should be pretty simple to tell Arthur 'no thanks' if Merlin found the idea unwelcome.

 

 **To Merlin:** look do you want to go out with me, or not?

 

    Arthur typed it out angrily, but didn't send it. He had a sudden flash of Merlin telling him to stop...something. He'd sounded sort of panicked and Arthur's stomach lurched again.

 

_**From Merlin:** it's ok, I am kind of upset, I guess, but I forgive you_

 

    Arthur swallowed. He feft like he had back when he'd pushed Merlin into that wall and Merlin had suggested they avoid each other. Every time he thought they were taking a step forward, Merlin seemed to take a bigger one away. Maybe...maybe he had it all wrong.

 

 **To Merlin:** thanks, you're a friend and a gentleman.

    And some how, despite how infuriating it was, everything went back to normal. Merlin corrected his notes, they studied with Gwen and Morgana. Leon stopped looking at him like he might explode...and yet...somehow it was all wrong. Morgana was still distant with him and Gwen—but not Merlin. It had taken him longer to notice that because they were both so...weird. Gwen could be spotted in serious conversation with Lancelot every so often, and Arthur had the weirdest feeling that her smiles and happy conversations with him were superficial. Everything had gone back to normal, but only on the surface. There was something else bubbling beneath it that confounded Arthur.

    But as much as it hurt that Gwen seemed not to need him to be her knight anymore, it was Merlin and Morgana that he couldn't seem to stop watching. The more he stared and lurked, the more he felt like he might be losing his grip on reality, and the more he began to develop the most hideous idea.

    What if Merlin fancied Morgana?

    Arthur didn't think he could bear that, but he cared about them both, and if they made each other happy....Morgana had always been so alone. She needed friends, a new family, and, well, she was a year older than him. Just because she had never dated didn't mean she couldn't.

    Geraint had told him to talk to someone if he was being a pillock, and since Merlin was clearly not an option, he considered his other friends. He really couldn't talk to them—Owain basically worshiped him and Cedric was a hopeless social climber. Rooming with Leon worked because they didn't talk, and while Geraint was decent, he was his father's son. When he rejected talking to Cai because he knew Cai would just tell him to go get laid...it dawned on him.

    He needed a distraction. He couldn't just try to meet someone, that might result in another Sophia. Besides, even if he met a girl who genuinely liked him, that wasn't what he wanted. He needed an arrangement. He needed Vivian.

    She was of a respectable family, and she was no stranger to the game they all had to play. Her father was an ally of his father, there would be no conflict. She wasn't a romantic, she would understand. He and Vivian could date for awhile without it being a thing. No one would get hurt, or drugged, and he could stop pining for Merlin. Everyone would be happy.


	10. Merlin's Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camelot plays host to Inquisitors and no one takes this well. Merlin meets Freya and makes a fateful decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I was tempted to have the summary be 'everything goes to hell', so...there's that)

Chapter 10

~*~Merlin~*~

 

    Merlin bolted awake, breathing like he'd been running, his hands shaking. It was the dream again—the nightmare where he performed CPR on Arthur. Arthur's pale, lifeless face lingered in his eyes and he rubbed them furiously.

    “It's over, it's over, it's over.” He repeated, making it into a sort of chant. But it didn't feel over, it felt like any moment he'd have to force his breath into Arthur's lungs in a desperate hope to keep him alive until the ambulance came.

    “It's over, it's over, it's over.”

    He threw back the covers and stood up, his knees weak and his balance confused.

    “It's over, it's over, it's over.”

    It was not surprising the nightmares had returned. It was the third night in a row now he'd not texted Arthur during the hour of the wolf. Arthur didn't say anything, but he had a girlfriend now. At some point, if not already, he was presumably going to want undisturbed nights. Besides, it was a stupid habit he needed to break.

    His search for something to replace the role of canals in his repertoire of coping mechanisms had not been going well. Every time he found a suitable candidate, something that offered him an seemingly endless run around for classification...it wouldn't stick. Man-made islands, for example, just wouldn't hold up to long term focused thoughts. But that was the problem with Merlin, he depended on his routines, his samenesses, but creating new ones was basically impossible. They had to just happen, and they did not happen when he wanted them to.

    Yet he wouldn't text Arthur. It was his own fault of course, Arthur had been fishing for some kind of reciprocation, encouragement, even acknowledgment of his apparent crush on Merlin, but Merlin couldn't give it.

    The reasons it was impossible were extremely plentiful. Even if Arthur suddenly decided that he really did believe everything that Morgause person had said, disowned himself, and decided that people who his father called defective were just fine....it still wouldn't work. Arthur would want touching and sex. That was only natural.

    The worst part was that Merlin wanted it too—if only on his terms and how and when he decided, which seemed sort of unreasonable somehow. Relationships were about give and take, but could Merlin ever really do that? He had always assumed he could do anything he wanted if he tried hard enough. But faced with the idea of actually being in a relationship with Arthur....suddenly he wasn't so sure.

    Not that it mattered, Arthur's reaction to the news that his father was an even bigger monster than expected didn't cause Arthur to reevaluate his policies, no, just hide in a bottle. But...Merlin couldn't really fault him for the impulse (only the actual behavior). Arthur's world had been so bleak, and the only thing he'd seemed to have to cling to had been his father. In stories about poor-little-rich-boys they usually had a nurse, or governess, or teacher, or butler, or someone who stepped in and provided actual support and guidance...Somerset had apparently made sure never to keep any employee who became 'too familiar' with Arthur.

    Still, it hurt that the first thing Arthur had done after drunkenly confessing that he was possibly in love with Merlin, had been to start dating Vivian, a posh snob who looked even better with Arthur than Sophia had—which was saying something, even in Merlin's limited view.

    He crept quietly down the stairs. Gaius was a heavy sleeper, but Merlin always felt like he made a racket slipping down for a glass of water. He froze when he heard voices,

    “....old friend, I cannot do anything to protect you. I've known I needed to do this for a long time, but I held back because I did not want to put you in jeopardy. After that Muirden incident, I simply could not wait any longer. But I wanted to do you the courtesy of warning you. Also, in the language of the bill, I made a provision...I don't know if you'll want to make use of it, but if you were to declare your intention to retire...the interviews only affect those who will be teaching after the next semester. As long as you retire at the end of this one, there would be no reason for you to be questioned.”

    “I understand, Uther. I'm not sure what I will do, but I appreciate you coming. You didn't have to. I knew this was coming, I always have.”

    “Please, Gaius, I know about you and your conscience, but keep this to yourself. Let the others at Camelot be identified and dealt with. Morgana's and Arthur's lives may be at stake. Don't do what you always do and warn people. Don't make me regret coming tonight.”

    “You have done what you thought was right, and now so shall I. But I take the safety of your family very seriously, I promise you.”

    Merlin's very soul sank. Somerset was the most hypocritical bastard in all of existence. How could he have let Arthur go back to thinking this man was worth loving? A confusion of anger, bitterness, and frustration boiled inside him, but he stayed still while Gaius and Somerset exchanged more words before Somerset departed.

    “You may come down now, Merlin.”

    Merlin winced.

    “He didn't know I was here, did he?” he asked, entering the parlor.

    “He knows you live here, but he didn't know you were listening. He doesn't know my house as I do. I know those stairs don't creak without cause.”

    “He knows I live here?”

    “Of course. When Arthur invited you for the Holidays, he came to see me about the arrangement, as it is unusual. I explained that your mother worried about me alone here, and suggested that since her son was to be attending, that he live with me to make sure I wasn't too alone.”

    “I....thank you.”

    “You make a good companion, Merlin, even if you do give me the odd heart attack. But I hope you understood what you overheard. Inquisitors from Public Safety will be coming to Camelot in the next week to interview all of the staff and employees. Do you know what will it mean?”

    “You have to fool them or retire?”

    Gaius shook his head. “I didn't mean with regards to myself. This is a witch hunt Merlin, and how does one avoid being caught in a witch hunt? By identifying others as witches. The staff will implicate each other, and the other campus employees, but also students. There are too many students to interview the entire university, but anyone identified by the staff as potentially mentally defective will be interviewed. You must hope you have hidden well, Merlin, and if not...you must be ready to face the inquisition.”

    Merlin didn't always take the paths back from his classes to Gaius'. He'd given up thinking he would be safe and unseen in the little wooded places, but he still occasionally walked through them. It was comforting, and given the general level of stress on campus this week, the calm of the woods was welcome.

    It was chaos. Some classes were canceled, professors forgot to grade homework, tests were postponed, office hours were often canceled...and that was just the academic stuff. Campus offices were erratic and, if gossip could be believed, you might get the usual polite response if you phoned into the Student Center for some reason, or you might get someone breaking down and sobbing about lost dreams to be a surfer. Janitorial staff were less understanding than normal, closing kitchens over minor messes and the food in the dining halls had apparently become unreliable as well—though one night that apparently meant an all ice cream menu, so it wasn't all bad.

    It made no sense to Merlin. Everyone was acting crazy, which, of course, was the last thing they should be doing. At this rate, the university might be shut down as far as he could see. No one had called for him—yet, though he had heard rumors that some students had been questioned. Gwen had received a notice the first day, though she was told it was 'routine' given her 'history', and her interview was scheduled in advance. He supposed there would be other people like Gwen in such a large student population, people who would be questioned even if Gaius' theory about witch hunts didn't hold.

    “Ow!” Merlin cried as he fell over. Something had knocked him over, barreling into his side. Hands grabbed at his shoulders.

    “Are you following me?” a voice demanded. Merlin blinked up at a small female, eyes full of fear and determination.

    “What?” he replied, confused.

    “Are you following me?” she reiterated, squirming so that she sat on him, knees pressed into his sides.

    “No,” Merlin replied. “I was just walking. It's nice here, quiet. I didn't even know you were here. Who are you?”

    She paused, looking to her left for a moment, considering.

    “Ok. We believe you.” She rolled off him, scrambling to her feet. She was probably around his age, most likely a student, but she was delicately built. Her shoes were sensible, and her socks were navy blue.

    “We?”

    “Never mind that.” She stood still while Merlin got to his feet.

    “Are you real?” she asked suddenly, voice less sure, while she chewed her lip.

    “I...think so?”

    “I can never tell anymore.”

    “I'm sorry?”

    Merlin's phone gave an alarming shriek, and both he and the girl started. Merlin dug it out and read through a new campus alert.

    “It's about me, isn't it?” she asked, watching him.

    “Are you Freya?”

    She nodded.

    “It says you attacked your roommate.”

    “She wasn't my roommate, she was a spy!” Freya replied emphatically.

    “O...k...” Merlin stared at her socks. What on earth was going on? The alert simply said that she'd attacked her roommate, and to contact campus security with any information. Given how little sense the situation was making, Merlin wasn't ready to call anyone just yet.

    “Can you tell me what happened?”

    “What's your name?”

    “I'm Merlin.”

    “Merlin, I think...I think I'm mentally defective. But it's...it's so hard to tell...”

    “Even if something is wrong, and I'm not saying it is, you're not defective.” Merlin said. “But if you tell me what happened, I might be able to help.”

    “It started just a few weeks ago...they started to tell me that my roommate was keeping secrets from me, that she talked about me behind my back...she'd always been so nice...but they kept saying she wasn't my friend at all...I didn't want to believe them but...then...then they said she sold me out to the Inquisitors! I asked her...and...and she said yes! She said I'd been acting oddly. She's been acting oddly! She's the ones with secrets! I should have listened to them!”

    “Who..? Who told you all this?”

    But Freya just stared blankly at Merlin for a long moment, hopelessness replacing her fervor. She sank to her knees.

    “I'm crazy aren't I? You should call them. I shouldn't have attacked her, she was right to call them, maybe she didn't, maybe they lied to me...What am I? I hurt her, why did I do that? I'm a monster! I'm one of those ones that hides, and then eats babies aren't I?”

    “Freya? I don't understand most of what you're saying, but you're not a monster. You shouldn't have hurt your roommate, that's true, but clearly it's more complicated than that. Whatever happened, whatever you did, it's not your fault, ok? This is a mess, I won't lie, but there'll be a way out of it. We just need to think.”

    “I'm just so scared.” She said in a quiet voice. “And they say I should be. They say I'm a fool...”

    Gaius had given Merlin a lot of his old books, and Merlin had been reading them, though his interest had always been the things that affected him: autism and anxiety. So he wasn't exactly sure what might be happening to Freya, but given what she'd said, his first wild guess was schizophrenia. Whatever it was, the whole atmosphere of the campus, the inquisitors, the fear and stress...had not helped her.

    “Do, uh, do they have anything to say about me?” he asked, though he wasn't sure he should engage her delusions.

    “No...they say you're quiet. That's it.” Freya frowned. “That's the nicest thing they've ever said about anyone.”

    “I'm flattered.” He was, bizarrely. The problem was...what could he do with her? Gaius' contacts with the Druids had all been arrested as far as he knew, and he couldn't—absolutely couldn't, involve Morgana again. He could probably get Freya off campus, but...she was in no state to make her own way. His thoughts could find only one solution and it was far from ideal.

    “Freya, do you trust me?”

    “Yes.” Freya said. “I just don't trust me.”

    “It's going to be ok.” Merlin said firmly, as much to himself as to her.

 


	11. Gwen's Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen faces the Inquisitor, and she and Lancelot come to a decision about their relationship.

Chapter 11

~*~Gwen~*~  
  


    “Ah, Miss Smith, please have a seat.” The Inquisitor said from behind a desk and gestured to the chair in front of it. The Inquisitor had been given offices in one of the administrative buildings. Gwen wondered what happened to the people who used to use them—there was a family photo on one of the shelves. It was clearly not the Inquisitor's family, though she tried to remind herself he might have one. He was just a man doing a job. She gave him a shaky smile and took her seat. She had faced integrators before. She'd been insulted by Somerset. She'd helped rescue Arthur. She could do this, she wasn't afraid of this man, or his questions.

    She was terrified.

    “I'm sorry to interrupt your semester, but I am sure you can understand that, as we are charged with the safety of our universities, we must leave no stone unturned so to speak.”

    “Of course.” Gwen said, her voice almost steady.

    “Now, I see here that you are achieving passing marks in all your classes.”

    “Yes. It's a condition of my scholarship that I maintain my GPA, and I take my education very seriously.”

    “But you missed the first week of classes.”

    “My father's estate had recently been opened to me. I suppose it was not the most responsible thing, but I needed to see it. It's been hard to accept everything that's happened. Going home helped me find closure.”

    “You've made peace with the fact that your father was involved in breaking out several criminally defective people? And that your brother has, instead of coming forward, fled?”

    “Yes.” Gwen said, meeting his gaze. “I didn't want to believe it, but it's true. The only thing I can do now is be a better person.”

    “Well said.” The Inquisitor made a few notes. “I do see that your father's estate was granted to you early—there was a note made by the Duke of Somerset himself.”

    “Yes, I was of some assistance to his family, and since the property had been thoroughly investigated, and I have no other home or family, His Grace was kind enough to grant me early access.”

    “I've met His Grace only once or twice, but his reputation has never been one of kindness.”

    “As I said, I was of some help to his family. Perhaps gratitude would be a better word.”

    “This service to his family, it involved the capture of Dr. Nimueh, I believe?”

    “Yes.”

    “I'm impressed. Perhaps you could explain how you managed to apprehend such a dangerous fugitive?”

    “I didn't capture her myself—I sort of helped.”

    “I see...and how was that?”

    Gwen swallowed. “I told her she owed me since my father died to set her free. Please understand, I said many things then, some of them insulting to His Grace the Duke, but I was only trying to save Arthur and Morgana. I didn't mean any of it. But it worked, she gave me the antidote, and the authorities apprehended her.”

    “There is also the matter of Mr. Black.”

    Gwen failed to suppress her shudder. “Y-yes. Um.”

    “Are you aware he died of his injuries?”

    Gwen balked. “No. I...I...”

    'I'm a murderer.'

    “And I believe you were the one who inflicted those injuries.”

    “I didn't mean to. I only meant to knock him out...he had a gun and a knife on Merlin...I...”

    “You're quite upset by this, I see. I believe it's genuine.”

    Gwen just stared at him, horrified with herself.

    “Very well, Miss Smith, you may go.”

    “I...what?” Gwen blinked. She'd killed someone and he was letting her go?

    “You may go. You're mentally sound.”

    “I....I killed...I...”

    “No, dear girl, it was just a test. Mr. Black is still alive. I was merely gauging your reaction.”

    “Oh.” Gwen stood up, wiping her eyes. She needed to leave, and probably throw up, but as her hand closed around the knob the Inquisitor spoke again.

    “He is in a coma with considerable brain damage, however.”

    Gwen nearly ran into the wall opposite the door trying to get away from him, the room, the words. As she walked down the hall, her shaking only got worse. She hadn't killed anyone—but she may have as good as killed him. He poisoned Arthur, cut Merlin, and...and she had bashed his skull in. Gwen ran. She burst into the ladies' room and threw up in the sink.

    She sobbed, quietly, rinsing her mouth out, and splashing her face.

    “Gwen?” a hesitant voice called. It was male, though it took Gwen's besieged mind a moment to realize whose it was.

    “Lancelot?” she croaked.

    “Can I...um, come...in?”

    Gwen blinked. There was no one else in the bathroom, but it was a ladies'...yet she did not feel like going back out into the hall.

    “Yes.”

    Lancelot opened the door hesitantly, his face pinched with concern.

    “Gwen? I saw you run in here...clearly you were released, was it just nerves?”

    She shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

    “Well...I...just wanted to be around...and...uh, but never mind. Are you ok? You look stricken.”

    “Oh, Lancelot.” Gwen said dramatically as she burst into tears. It was quite embarrassing, but then again, she had just found out she'd almost killed Mr. Black. Lancelot reached out and pulled her into his arms while she began sobbing out her story on his shoulder.

    When she was through, he kept holding her, one hand stroking her hair, and the other wrapped around her waist. He'd come to support her, come to congratulate her on not being hauled off as mentally defective—or a sympathizer. Because she was now. The books in the library had been censored, but there was enough for Gwen to combine with what she'd found out about her family and Somerset to make up her mind. And, unsurprisingly, Lancelot agreed with her. And more than that, even after she'd confessed the terrible deed she'd done—for whatever her motivations, whatever the situation, nothing could change the fact that she'd done something awful—he held her, comforted her, and told her that she had done what she had to save her friends, and would never have hurt anyone that badly on purpose.

    Gwen had the worst case of butterflies in her stomach ever. Lancelot had invited her back to his apartment for dinner. It was ridiculous. After taking such care not to be seen to be too close to students, they'd been meeting too often, and now this. Also, Gwen was exhausted and emotionally drained. But while her stomach was nervous and excited, the rest of her felt strangely calm. There was something to be said for getting off campus, for getting away from all the stress and fear, and from all her worries.

    Lancelot forbade her to help him in the kitchen, but made her giggle by putting on quite the show—who knew he could juggle? It was so welcome, the respite, the frivolity.

    “I don't suppose you've heard from Merlin?” He asked after she'd bullied him into letting her at least help him dry the dishes.

    “No...not today, why?”

    “I'm just a little worried about him. You're here with me. Morgana and Arthur are hardly likely to be questioned, but Merlin...”

    Gwen frowned. “I doubt it, there's no reason. He keeps to himself mostly, but he's not a loner, and his grades are better than mine. No one's going to bother him.”

    “You're probably right. He does keep telling me he's with Morgana, though. I thought it was sort of odd—they don't usually hang out together unless when it's with you.”

    “Last semester. But...lately...I've actually started to sort of wonder if they might be...together, but why keep it a secret?”

    “Gwen...they're not dating.”

    “Why are you so sure?” Gwen asked, puzzled.

    “Merlin's got a thing for Arthur. And vice versa, if I'm not mistaken.”

    “Oh.” Gwen pondered that, its not that she'd never considered it, but then one of them would always do something that dissuaded her—like Arthur dating Vivian. “But...they're...”

    “Complicated. I don't know Arthur that well, but I would imagine he's been told exactly how his life is going to go, and Merlin wouldn't fit in that. And Merlin...well, he's sensible enough to see all the potential problems, ones I wouldn't even think of.”

    “That's so sad though.”

    Lancelot glanced at her. “It is, and yet, it's life, isn't it?”

    It was, and they weren't talking about Merlin and Arthur anymore. Gwen decided that in her own story, she wouldn't choose to be cautious—not in this. Merlin and Arthur could give each other up because it was hard and not acceptable to others, but she wasn't going to. She was going to try, she was going to fight, and she...was going to kiss Lancelot.

    “No,” Gwen replied, setting down the plate she'd been drying. “It doesn't have to be.”

    She stood on tiptoe and kissed Lancelot right on the mouth, hands sliding around his neck as he kissed her back. They kissed for a long moment before Lancelot pulled back to look at her.

    “Are you sure?” He asked. “I can't date you openly or I'd lose my job, but you don't deserve to be hidden.”

    “I'm sure.” Gwen said. “Nothing in this world is ideal, but I want to work with you to make it better, and I want to be with you when it's hard.”

    “Partners?” He asked, looking at her like she was not quite real.

    “Partners.” She agreed, kissing him again.

   

 


	12. Morgana's Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana finally has her own family but she must also face an Inquisitor.

Chapter 12

~*~Morgana~*~  


    One good thing about Arthur's sudden and inexplicable desire to date Vivian, of all people, was that, while he did keep inviting her to group events, at least none of them were double dates or college parties. Vivian made him invite Morgana along because it was expected. Vivian liked Morgana as much as Morgana liked Vivian, which was not at all. But Vivian, being of a similar rank and upbringing, had to be just as mindful about her image as Arthur should have been—only more so because sexism was not dead. That was another good thing about Arthur dating Vivian, she would not put up with any of his self-destructive behavior. There were actually quite a few good things about the relationship.

    It made Morgana furious.

    She sighed as she texted a denial to Arthur, explaining that she and Merlin were studying, as she joined the queue in one of the campus cafes. She then took two coffees to a table and waited for Morgause to arrive. It was a convenient new development, the ability to have an alibi or ready excuse when Gwen or Arthur asked what she was doing. She knew he sometimes did the same thing—claimed to be with her when he was not. It was an unspoken agreement they now had, and she would always agree that Merlin had been with her whether he had or not. Just as he would do for her.

    And they were together some of the time. He brought her books from Gaius and coached her, adorably but often fruitlessly, on things he thought might help her blend in.

      The thing was, blending in had never been the problem—it was the panic attacks that were. Thus far, however, she'd been lucky. They had been few, and in private. It was a dangerous thing to bet on, but Merlin had explained that there was no cure, or even any fool proof or easy treatment. The only thing she could do, he said, was not to make it worse by panicking about panicking. Accept them, learn to handle them, and hope. It was hollow advice, but it was all they had.

    She hadn't told him about Morgause. He knew of her, and he knew Morgana was meeting with her sometimes, but she hadn't told anyone the truth they'd discovered. Morgause was her sister. Their mother had had a child before her marriage. It was something of a secret, and Morgause had been given to her paternal grandparents when their mother had married Morgana's father. She never saw her again. She’d been bounced around to different relatives until she'd run away as a teenager, tired of being treated like a burden, tired of being unwanted.

    Uther and Morgana's father had met through their wives, which had been girlhood friends—and Ygraine had been privy to all Morgana's mother's secrets. Thus she'd known Morgause as a toddler. It was a lot to take in, and for a wild few moments, it seemed too coincidental, and Morgana had wondered if it could be true. But the truth of it was easy to see in Morgause's face. It was why she had seemed familiar to Morgana. Morgana had her father's coloring, but looked very little like either of her parents. Her father said she resembled her grandmother somewhat, but Morgause looked very like their mother.

    Morgause was intoxicating. Having a sister, having real family again, and a link to her parents, was astounding and beautiful. Better still, Morgause knew quite a lot about Uther's rise to power, his methods, his policies, his allies and his opponents, and the resistance. She was unashamed and unafraid in condemning him and everything he had created. And she was passionate about it, she lit up like a fire when she discussed it, and Morgana could almost warm herself in that glow. Morgana had never been close with anyone. She'd come to love Arthur, she and Merlin were now connected by their secrets, and Gwen was sweet and pure. But Morgause was everything Morgana had ever wanted—family, friendship, someone who understood.

    She'd guessed about Morgana being autistic, thus the gift of the bracelet. She accepted it easily, and told Morgana it made her special—her mind could do things other minds could not. When Morgana confessed her reluctance about hugs and other types of physical affection, Morgause had not been disappointed. She could be herself with Morgause, even more than she could with Merlin. Morgause was....perfect.

    “Please take a seat.”

    Morgana sat, confused, and more than a little frightened. She'd thought she was safe. For one thing, no one had summoned Merlin to an Inquisitor, and he was far more obvious than she was. For another, she'd been drugged and nearly who-even-knew by Professor Muirden, nearly poisoned over the Holidays, and as far as anyone knew, abducted at the beginning of the semester. She was a victim of the mentally defective so far as the government was concerned. Besides, she was Pendragon's ward. How could anyone suspect her when the mighty head of Public Safety was her guardian?

    “I'm sorry to trouble you, I know you've had more than your share of excitement this year, but I need to make a few notes for the official record since you were twice assaulted on campus premises.”

    “Oh, of course.” Morgana said, trying not to be obvious in her relief. “I'll help however I can.”

    “Professor Muirden was your tutor--”

    “No, he was not. He taught a class I was taking and had some concerns regarding my work—unfounded concerns I might add, everything he said was ridiculous, but before I could explain that to him, he stabbed me in the neck with a syringe.”

    “I see.” The Inquisitor made a note. “But you escaped.”

    “Yes.”

    “And then, this term, you were abducted by extremists.”

    “Yes.”

    “Where did this abduction take place?”

    Morgana had already been through her story several times, and thus launched into a full account of her supposed abduction on the way back to her dorm. She made sure to stumble over the traumatic parts and to explain that things happened quickly.

    “Interesting. Do you know how to tell if someone is lying?'

    “I beg your pardon?” Morgana asked, channeling the ice that Uther sometimes used when he was about to dismiss a servant.

    “When someone fabricates a story, they tend to use the same language each time they retell it, the same phrasing on the details. When someone recalls an actual event, it's much more organic. Your version just now is very similar to the report I have in front of me that you gave to Public Safety when you were interviewed previously. I wonder why that is.”

    “Probably because I dislike recalling being stuffed into a van. So I just keep saying the same thing so I don’t have to think about it.”

    “Perhaps. Earlier you said that Professor Muirden was not your tutor. Have you ever had one?”

    Morgana frowned. This man was trying to lay traps, but what was the trap here? If she lied and he knew about Gaius it would look bad, but if he didn't...then what? It seemed harmless but it couldn't be.

    “Yes.” The truth was her only shield, if she could stick to actual facts as much as possible....

    “While you have attended Camelot?”

    “Not exactly. I consult with my childhood tutor once or twice a semester, just to make sure I stay on track. It would be more if I had any specific issues, but thus far I haven't.”

    “Really? I can't help but notice that your first year at Camelot saw straight As but last semester you received only one full A. This term as well, your professors are reporting more B work than anything else.”

    “Well, the work is harder this year, I'm also an RA, and as you've noted, it's been a trying year. I haven't been as focused as I was last year.”

    “Nothing your tutor could help with?”

    “I doubt it. He can't fix it if I'm distracted, only if I struggle with concepts or resources.”

    “And what is the name of your tutor?”

    “Professor Gaius Tudgan, not that it's relevant.”

    “And you mentioned being an RA.” The Inquisitor made another note, ignoring her comment.

    “I see here that you were put on probation last term. You attempted to break curfew during lockdown.”

    “Yes...it was...embarrassing.” Morgana tried to look embarrassed rather than terrified.

    “Indeed, the reason for this very uncharacteristic infraction was that you were trying to visit your boyfriend?”

    “Y-yes. I...that is....we'd been having...problems and...well, it...it felt like if I didn't see him that night, everything would be over.”

    “Ah, young love.”

    “Quite.”

    “And did you stay together?”

    Morgana had no guide on that, except that a break up would probably simplify things.

    “No...we broke up.”

    “And when was this?”

    “After the lockdown ended.”

    “I see. And the young man's name?”

    “Merlin. Merlin Emrys.”

    Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. She'd had no time to think, and Merlin was her alibi. What had she done?

    “Thank you very much for your time. I hope you have a quiet rest of term.”

    “Thank you, I do as well.”

 


	13. Arthur's Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur tries to avoid everything that's happening in Albion and at Camelot, but Morgana admits she may have accidentally put Merlin in danger so Arthur goes looking for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I am not responsible for Arthur's actions or his words, yes I wrote this but omg he has a mind of his own and I just...don't want to be associated with him in this chapter)

Chapter 13

~*~Arthur~*~

 

    “Oh for goodness sake, Viv, turn that off.” Arthur groaned, frustrated that his attempts at coaxing her out of her clothes were going unappreciated. He'd started by stroking her hair, following it down as it fell over her shoulders, straight and blond...and then just sort of stroking her shoulders, then planting kisses along the line of the bra strap all the stroking had exposed.

    “Arthur, this is kind of important.” Vivian replied, swatting him away. “Do you have any idea what's going on in Albion currently?”

    “No.” Arthur gave up and flopped back on the bed. “It's uni, it's freshman year of uni. This is our last chance to neither know, nor care, about what's happening before we become our parents.”

    “Normally, I'd agree, but I should think given everything that's happened to you and Morgana, you'd be more interested in the fact that the country is restless, riots are growing more common and more often put down by force, and a mob of Tintagel students have stormed their Student Center and barricaded themselves inside.”

    “What?” Arthur sat up again. Vivian pointed to the computer screen, which was showing a few seconds clip from someone's phone, of students breaking windows while commentators debated heatedly, and the banner at the bottom supplied a lot of wild guesses as to how many students were involved, and what they wanted.

    “The whole world has gone mad.” Arthur muttered. It had. The last few days had been insanity. The very presence of Inquisitors seemed to expose a huge mental defects problem at Camelot. People kept disappearing, doing mad things, or just walking around like a gun might go off at any moment. It was very distracting, but Arthur wasn't really complaining since it was taking all his willpower not to just storm up to Morgana and Merlin and demand they come clean and admit they were dating. It was fine, of course, just the secrecy was annoying. Plus, if they were open about it, maybe they'd stop 'studying' so much so they could be alone, and actually hang out with him and Gwen some again. It wasn't like Arthur had a lot of free time, or apparently Gwen, since he suspected she and her security guard finally made it past flirting. Everyone had paired off, so it was all fine.

    It was fine.

    It was absolutely fine.

    Vivian was fine. Vivian, while not very interesting to talk to since he'd known her since he was seven and she was shallow and vain—was very interesting in bed. Or against a wall. Or on a table. Or...

    “Arthur, are you even listening?” Vivian sighed.

    “No.” Arthur confessed. “I was thinking about that time in the laundry room.”

    “You do realize that if we're killed by an angry mob we can't fuck anymore, right?”

    “Alas. Fine, what do I need to know, and why is this even happening? Everything was calm last year, everything has been calm for years. Was there some kind of mass mutation and now everyone has mental defects?”

    “It was that break out last autumn when those really dangerous ones got loose--like the one that attacked you at the Solstice. They were leaders back in the day, according to my dad. Some of them, it's suspected, could even make normal people defective, though my mum swears that's impossible, you either are or you aren't, and the only thing that can make some one suddenly turn defective is if they were all along. Either way, after they escaped, they started seeking out the ones Public Safety has missed, which I guess is a lot more than we thought, it's really scary, and then there's all those sympathizers too...and they've been organizing people or inspiring them anyway. And that's why things keep getting so out of hand.”

    Arthur shrugged. “They'll catch the leaders and everyone else, I mean, they even have Inquisitors here. My Ethics professor has fled, apparently. It's so weird, he seemed totally fine—less quirky even than some of the others.”

    “You know that's how it is.” Vivian shrugged. “Besides, there's research that shows that a lot of defectives end up in education.”

    “That's...weird and alarming.”

    “Yeah, but apparently it's easier for them to hide or something if they're professors or teachers.”

    “Huh.”

    “Two of the girls on my floor have vanished, and did you hear about that one girl in Griffith Hall who attacked her roommate before she escaped?”

    “Everyone has, they had a campus wide alert, I thought they might lock us down again...” Arthur tried not to remember being stuck in a bush with Merlin.

    “Yeah, I don't know why they didn't. They still haven't found her. It makes me nervous walking around campus, I mean, she could be anywhere! They don't think logically, so she might not have run away, all she'd have to do is put on a hoody or something, with so many people...”

    Vivian shuddered and Arthur drew her against him. “If she was here, they'd find her.”

    “They never found that kid last time, even with the lockdown.”

    “Yeah, well, that was different.” _Because I helped smuggle him out..._ “Last time it was a surprise, this time we have Inquisitors swooping around.”

    “True. Still, it makes me kind of afraid of my roommate, you know? She seems alright, she's new money, but she seems stable. And yet...that's all we have left now, just the ones that seem normal until they snap and cut your face up with scissors.”

    “Is that what that Freya girl did?”

    “Well, that's what I've heard, but you know how rumors can be.”

    In other words, no, probably not. Vivian loved gossip, but she always pretended like she didn't believe it—or spread it. But as much as that annoyed him, it was familiar and simple.

    “So, are we going to watch the same three seconds over and over, or...”

    “You are the worst, Edgemont, the absolute worst. You're going to have to work really hard to distract me.”

    “I can do really hard.” Arthur smirked.

 A sound rapping came at Arthur's door. He rolled out of bed lazily, and padded barefoot to open it, yawning and stretching slightly.

    “Have you seen Merlin, or heard from him at all?” Morgana demanded, apparently distraught. Arthur's first reaction was actually disgust. How on earth did he end up in the middle of Morgana's relationship with Merlin? That was unfair and uncalled for. But he could remember seeing Morgana that upset only once before, when he'd been about to die, so he quickly shifted into concern.

    “No, why?” He pulled her into the room.

    “I...” She trembled, looking up at him beseechingly. “I was questioned by the Inquisitors, it was all routine, like Gwen, because of the things that have happened to me here...but they asked about last autumn, when I fell out of the tree, and I had made up that story about trying to see a boy, and they wanted a name, and I didn't know what to do, or have any time to think and I...told them it was Merlin. And...”

    But she couldn't continue. She pulled away from him and sat on his bed, holding herself, shaking.

    “Morgana, I'm sure it's fine.” He told her, utterly baffled.

    “No, it's not because I should have told them anyone but Merlin. I need to warn him, but he's not answering his phone, and no one knows where he is.”

    “Why does it matter?”

    “Arthur, you cannot be that stupid.” She hissed between shaky breaths. “Don't you understand what's happening?”

    “No.” He answered, annoyed. “You're not making any sense, Morgana.”

    “It's a witch hunt, Arthur, and I named Merlin.”

    Arthur frowned. “I know you don't agree with father's methods but--”

    “Open your eyes!” Morgana panted, shaking worse than ever. She was seriously scaring him.

    “Arthur, why do you think that all of Camelot is on edge? Everyone is terrified. All it takes is something like what I did for Merlin to be called in, and then they ask him questions about what happened, and he can't tell the truth, and then they think...”

    “But Merlin's harmless, anyone can see that.”

    Morgana just shook her head, exasperated and distraught.

    Arthur watched her for a moment. “Alright, I'm sorry, I can see this is really upsetting you, so we'll find Merlin and tell him. But it will be alright, even if he does get called in.”

    “What if he has already? What if that's why he hasn't answered? We did smuggle Mordred out, if they catch him in a lie...”

    Arthur did finally see the danger, even if he couldn't understand why Morgana hadn't started with that. Still, Morgana was overreacting. He sighed.

    “Fine, let's see if we can't find him. It's weird, I texted him awhile ago and he said he was with you.”

    “When?”

    “Uh,” Arthur pulled out his phone. “14:15.”

    Morgana paused, chewing her lip and fiddling with her new bracelet. “He wasn't. I was being interviewed then.”

    “Why would he lie?” Arthur was hurt. It was one thing for Merlin to be spending time with Morgana because he liked her, and another for him to just be dodging Arthur.

    “Not important.” Morgana said, calming a little. “He might be wandering around...he likes to explore the wooded parts of campus...”

    “Well, I can go look for him. You should...go back to your room, or stay here.”

    “Why?” she demanded, though her voice shook.

    “Because you're in a right state.” Arthur pointed out.

    Morgana stared at her hands for a moment.

    “Alright,” she replied quietly, defeated. That gave him pause more than anything else, Morgana defeated. He'd never known her to be defeated by anything.

    Finding Merlin, however, was not exactly easy. It caused Arthur to reflect on how, while he had imagined Merlin in his room at Gaius'--he'd never seen it. Everything in his daydreams about Merlin in the red hoody Arthur had given him, waiting for Arthur's texts, or...doing other things, all of it was completely fabricated. Merlin had been in his dormitory room and even slept there, and he had been in his room at Pendragon Castle, and seen the play room, and embarrassing photos of him and Morgana dressed up for state functions or political events thinly veiled as social gatherings. Merlin knew where to find Arthur when Arthur was worrying his friends and yet...Arthur had no notion of where to find Merlin. It made him feel uncomfortable and shallow.

    Did he really know Merlin at all or did he just fancy the way he looked and the fact that men were forbidden to him? Arthur swallowed hard and realized he had not been taking Morgana seriously out of jealousy—and Merlin deserved far better than that. If Merlin's girlfriend, who he had seemed glued to of late, was worried, shouldn't Arthur be as well?

    He tried to put himself in Merlin's mind, tried to think like him. Merlin was all about water, and he dimly remembered something about him finding Mordred near a stream. If Merlin was out in the grounds, he'd go to secluded places with interesting water. Unfortunately, Arthur never spent any time wandering off campus paths into the wild areas, and had no idea where any water was, apart from the ponds near the campus bookstore—but those were too open. Still, he supposed streams might flow into them, and he might be able to back track. He started wandering in that direction, not sure what plan B was.

    But trying to think like Merlin also highlighted how little he actually understood about what went on in Merlin's mind. Merlin never shut up about Doctor Who, water, the etymology of glaciers...so many things, it made it seem like he made conversation and shared like anyone else. Except he didn't. He was closed and private and....quiet, despite how much noise he made. Obviously the things he spoke about interested him—the sheer amount he knew about those subjects attested to that. So that was something, and perhaps, if one paid enough attention and analyzed what he said, one might derive some deeper set of values from all those rants and rambles.

    As Arthur racked his brains for some kind of pattern to Merlin's feelings about Doctor Who, and canals, and his need to correct Arthur's notes, his feet led him around the largest pond to something of a trickle that seemed to feed it. He followed that into some woods, not entirely sure how far the campus actually went in that direction, and trying not to think how pointless and useless an exercise it was to wander aimlessly looking for Merlin. Or how worry had settled in the pit of his stomach. What if something had happened to Merlin? Something worse than being called to account for their misadventure in the autumn? What if, say, he'd been wandering around and had been attacked by that Freya girl? Merlin could either be impeccable in a crisis, or sort of freeze up, and if he was ambushed...

    Arthur was to the point of phoning Campus Security when he saw a shoe print in the mud. He frowned at it, trying to decide if it was a clue or not.

    “Are you real?” a timid voice came from his left. Arthur whirled around to scan the still leafless trees for its owner. A pale face peeked around at him from behind a tree trunk.

    “Pardon?”

    “Are you real?” the girl asked again.

    “Uh, yes?” Arthur frowned. “I think so.”

    She watched him for a moment, and Arthur became very concerned that he had just found the missing girl who had attacked her roommate. They had released her picture, and while she was mostly hidden behind the tree, it seemed the sort of thing someone with a mental defect might ask. They didn't always have a great grasp of reality, and that was worrisome. Arthur knew there were some defects that, while they still had to be monitored, did not necessarily pose a great risk to the public. People like that could hold certain menial jobs in controlled settings, and be allowed to live in designated housing. But those people didn't attack anyone, those people had a decent grasp of reality. The ones who didn't, well, who knew what they might do? If they weren't experiencing the same world, they couldn't react reasonably to things. This girl, however scared she might look, was extremely dangerous.

    He didn't know if he dared pull out his phone to call for help, he had no idea if she would understand that action or not.

    “Freya?” He asked.

    She went rigid, eyes wide in terror. Then she crumpled, clapped her hands over her ears, closed her eyes.

    “No, no, no.” she whimpered.

    Clearly no grasp of reality, but it did mean he could take out his phone and dial campus security.


	14. Merlin's Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin prepares to run away with Freya but things go horribly wrong. Arthur rescues Merlin for the first time, but he's hardly a knight in shining armor.

Chapter 14

~*~Merlin~*~

 

Literal Witch Hunts were a sort of legendary thing from the time before Queen Guinevere. Before she united Albion, when people not only believed in magic, but feared it greatly. And sometimes when calamity struck, either disease or famine or natural disaster, someone would blame it on sorcery, and then they would need to find the witch responsible. But since magic wasn't real, and there was no true sorcerer responsible, there was just a lot of accusations and terror, and invariably multiple 'witches' were hanged or burnt for the crime. Or so the stories went, given that so few records of that period survived.

There had always been an aspect of that to the persecution of people with mental defects, and all that went with it. The part where people accused their rivals or people they didn't like, where people accused others just to avoid being accused, and even the odd person who actually believed what they were saying was true. Merlin had traced that in his research into why Sophia had ended up being bullied into seducing Arthur by her father.

But the intensity of the current inquisition was positively medieval as far as Merlin was concerned, and he was done with it. Going to Camelot was supposed to be difficult, and he was supposed to have to be careful, but never in the plan was there supposed to be a targeted witch hunt at Camelot. The riots and unrest, the student rebellions, all of it was not in his plan at all. And when situations changed, it was logical and necessary to adapt.

As such, Merlin decided that leaving with Freya wouldn't be the end of the world. It was terrifying, and every time he made a decision about his new plan his stomach turned over with worry and distaste for deviating from the previous plan—the one that he and his mother had been fine tuning his whole life. But it simply wasn't safe or reasonable to stay at Camelot anymore, and if things kept on the way they were, well, maybe things would change. Better to be free than in Care.

It was mad, of course, to run away with Freya. But it was the sanest path he could see. The alternatives were unthinkable. She was scared, and vulnerable, and in so much danger—from others and from herself. She needed any help she could get, and she deserved it. Merlin couldn't turn his back on her, he couldn't. That would be wrong, so wrong that it trumped all the other wrong things he needed to do to take care of her. Like lying to Gaius, like running away and giving his mother a heart attack, like leaving Morgana to fend for herself, leaving university and all his aspirations and hopes for the future...

Merlin swallowed down his doubts and kept walking. He'd hated to leave Freya, but he'd needed to get supplies if they were going to survive. He wished he'd had more time--so much more time--to prepare for such a journey, but as conflicted as his mind was, boiling away inside him and making his heart race, he'd also been possessed by a strange calm, and rational determination. And that had guided him through everything thus far. He knew it wouldn't last forever, he just hoped it would hold until they were safely away.

Freya was not where he'd left her, she met him much sooner than he'd expected. She was looking around, worrying her hands and muttering.

“Freya?”

“Merlin!” she almost smiled in relief.

“Everything ok?”

“No...but then...” she shrugged. “How could it be?”

“It will be. We'll go away, and then we'll find help... or at least what to do to make them stop bothering you so much.”

Merlin could tell she was staring at him, but he continued, “I know it's sort of hard to imagine, just running away, but I think we can do it, if we're together.”

“Why would you help me?” she wasn't suspicious, more awed, as if he were performing a minor miracle.

“Why wouldn't I?” Merlin set down his backpack and pulled out a jumper. He handed it over, and she held it for a moment, feeling the texture and clutching it as if it might restore what she'd lost.

“Because I'm a monster. Because it puts you in danger, not just from Public Safety, but from me. Because you're giving up everything to help someone you don't even know, someone who...”

“Someone who is scared, and alone, and has no one to help her. Someone who didn't do anything wrong.”

“But I did. I did hurt her.”

“That wasn't really you, Freya. People do things they regret when they're under a lot of stress, and the whole campus is like that right now. And then you add into it what's going on in your mind—and that's not your fault. They aren't your fault.”

“You think you're safe from me because they like you. You're not. They don’t like you really, they think you’re too quiet now. I won’t listen to them at first, I didn't about her...but eventually...”

      Merlin had to think about what to say to that because the first thing that came to mind was that the voices in her head had been right about her roommate—she had named Freya to the Inquisitors. Somehow he thought telling her that 'they' were right was a very bad move.

“You know what they say about the mentally defective,” Freya commented dully on his silence.

      "I do know, I also know they're wrong. Do you know how? Because...because I am too. Not like you, but...my mind is different too, and I've never hurt anyone. But my mum helped me when I was little. I've been hiding my whole life, but that's how I know you're not a monster Freya.”

“...Really?” she breathed, awed.

“Yes. I'm autistic.”

“I don't know that one.”

“Not many people do, but you'll learn if you're stuck with me from now on.”

“Even so...Merlin...you can't just throw your life away for me.”

“Why not? It's my life isn't it? And what better thing to do with it than help someone?”

“I'm getting worse. It's happening so fast. I saw someone this time. I've never seen anyone before, only heard them. I don't want to hurt anyone again.”

She wasn't arguing with him, it just came out in a rush of desperation and fear. That was the worst part, he knew, the fear. People didn't just fear each other thanks to all the misinformation and propaganda, they feared themselves. Even the panic attack Morgana had had made her fear herself more than anything. It was so wrong.

“You won't,” he promised. “It won't be easy, it will be a little while before we can actually help you. We have to get away first, and that will be tricky, and you'll have to trust me. But it will get better, we just have to work together.”

She nodded tentatively.

“You're...really not afraid of me.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No but...”

“But?”

“We're the same?”

“Well, sort of, I mean, before things got so weird no one would say we were, but under the current laws....yes.”

She pulled on the jumper.

“Merlin?”

Merlin whirled around to face Arthur Pendragon, son of the Duke of Somerset, staring at him and Freya. Merlin's mind froze, his heart stopped, and for a moment there was no fear, no cold terror, just emptiness as time stretched out. But the panic did set in, eventually, as Arthur's eyes moved from Merlin to Freya and back again in confusion.

Had he heard? And even if he hadn't...

“Arthur...” Merlin swallowed, his brain refusing to come up with anything else.

“He's real?” Freya asked, staring at Arthur.

“Yes...” Merlin started, but Arthur stomped through the brush to them.

He grabbed the backpack, Merlin made to grab it back but Arthur pushed his hand away. “No, Merlin, there's not time.”

“What...” Merlin trailed off as Arthur sprinted away from them and then flung the backpack over some hedges.

“I don't like him.” Freya whimpered. “They say he's one of them, I thought he wasn't real. They say he's on their side.”

Merlin swallowed hard, unable to process what Freya was saying.

“What the hell--” he tried to demand but Arthur just grabbed his arm, pulling him away from Freya.

Which was when he heard the footsteps. And then, they were surrounded. Armed, black suit clad agents from Public Safety pointed their guns at Freya and she sobbed as she sank to her knees, her hands in the air.

Merlin couldn't think, but he tried to pull free and go to her, to tell them to stop, to do something, anything...but Arthur held his wrist even tighter and trod on his foot. He hissed something in Merlin's ear but Merlin didn't seem to understand English anymore. He knew what was happening, he was watching them take Freya, watching someone go into Care, watching it all end.

“No.” He croaked, trying to scream it but Arthur's grip was so tight it made him feel sick.

They handcuffed her, gagged her, and put a bag over her head. They actually put a black bag over her head. And then two grabbed her shoulders while another two kept their weapons trained on her. They dragged her away weeping, the sounds muffled, faint but sickening.

“You didn't mention anyone else in your call,” one of the two remaining agents said to Arthur, puzzled.

“When I made the call, I'd only spotted her. Merlin here is a friend of mine, he likes to take walks out here, I was actually looking for him when I found her. He just sort of wandered into her—apparently he doesn't have his phone on him or he'd know that not only were his friends looking for him but there was a dangerous defective on the loose. The idiot just sort of blundered into her.”

Dimly, some part of Merlin's brain put it together. The story was true, except for the part where Arthur was covering for him. But Merlin was staring at the place where Freya's feet had disappeared as she'd been dragged out of sight.

“ Mer lin,” Arthur said firmly, prodding him. “I'm sure you're in shock but you could, I don't know, answer the man who just saved you.”

Apparently the agent had addressed him. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, what?”

“Was the Earl of Edgemont's summary accurate? You were just out here alone taking a walk?”

“Y-yes. I...it helps me think.” Merlin stuttered.

“And you are?”

“Merlin. Emrys. I'm a first year student.”

“You weren't hurt, I trust?”

Merlin wanted to laugh, and then spit in the man's face, but he just shook his head.

“Right, well, I'll need you to come back with me and give an official statement--”

    “That won't be necessary.” Arthur broke in. “Merlin was with me during that unfortunate business over the Solstice Holiday, and he saved my life. He's a close Pendragon family friend, and as he's just had a nasty shock, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”

“Sir, the proce-”

“'My Lord' is the courtesy address for my station.” Arthur corrected coldly.

The man swallowed. “Er, yes. I mean, as you will, my lord.”

And without another word, Arthur pulled Merlin away. Merlin stumbled after him, still lost, still trying to reject everything and make it go away. But eventually, he managed to gasp out,

“You're hurting me.”

Arthur slowed and loosened his grip on Merlin's wrist—but did not let go. One thing that he did finally get to work in his mind was the fact that Arthur had not turned him in, which meant either he hadn't heard Merlin confess his own status to Freya or...well the alternative wasn't really possible. But he hated the relief that flowed through him—what right did he have to his safety when Freya was gone?

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked, finally realizing that Arthur was not dragging him back toward campus.

“I'm taking you home.” Arthur replied.

And Arthur did indeed drag him all the way back to Gaius' cottage, just across the road from campus. Gaius blinked at them and made some greeting, which Arthur returned absently while demanding of Merlin the location of his room.

Merlin pointed up the stairs, and off Arthur dragged him again. Finally in his own room, Merlin came back to himself enough to wrench his arm away.

“Fuck, ow. Were you trying to break my wrist?”

“Were you trying to get arrested?”

“No.”

“What were you going to do, run off with her? Was that the plan?”

“Why did you have to go and call them? Why did you have to ruin everything?”

“She was dangerous!”

“She was terrified and alone and just needed some help!”

“Which is exactly what she'll get, from people who know what they're doing.”

“You were there! Did that look like help to you? You saw Mordred, do you have any idea what they're going to do to her?” Merlin roared, fists clenched.

“This is completely different to that!” Arthur shouted back, just as angry.

“No, it's exactly the same!”

“In any system this large there are going to be abuses, we have to be vigilant and stop them when we find them, but what happened to Mordred wasn't normal, Merlin, it was just unfortunate.”

Which was when Merlin punched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I would like to make it clear that Freya didn't attack her roommate because the voices told her to. She attacked her roommate because her roommate betrayed her and she was already scared and stressed. It wasn't a good thing to do, but I hope it's understandable. The voices Freya experiences focus on reinforcing her feeling that she's in danger, and berating her for it as though it's her fault--always telling her she's a fool to trust people and the things that go wrong come back to her decisions. It's a constant chorus of verbal abuse coming from her mind making it very hard for her to sort out her connection to reality. This, in combination with what she'd been raised to believe about mental illness, is completely debilitating.]


	15. Morgana's Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgause confronts Morgana with an uncomfortable truth.

~*~Morgana~*~

 

“Sister!” Morgause came forward, her greeting warm even if she stopped short of what to others might seem the natural prelude to a hug. Morgana was grateful. She didn't think she could be hugged now, not when she might fly apart at any moment, not when her only hope for Merlin was that clueless Arthur would find him in time, and, that a warning would help.

“Morgause,” Morgana began without preamble. “I was called in.”

Morgause furrowed her brow, “They let you go, so they must not have had anything solid.”

Morgana shook her head, “They just wanted me to name people, I think.”

“Of course, Pendragon's Ward, surely she must have spotted the defectives. What did they do when you didn't give them anyone?”

Morgana's breath caught, “I...”

“Morgana?” Morgause looked perplexed.

“They startled me,” Morgana tried to explain. “I didn't have time to think.”

“Morgana!”

Morgana shrank back, she knew it had been a horrible thing to do, she'd wished it unsaid as soon as she heard her own voice naming Merlin. Merlin, of all people! The one person she knew must not be called under any circumstances. Morgause's accusing glare shattered what comfort Arthur had managed to impart with his promise to look for Merlin and air of confusion as to why it should be such a big deal.

“They asked about...about the autumn. Last term when...there was a boy, Merlin found him. He'd escaped Care and we...we smuggled him out of the lockdown. I fell out of a tree and was caught and I made up a story, no one pressed me at the time but....”

Morgana had begun to shake, voice coming in terrified gasps. Morgause looked around and took Morgana by the elbow to move her out of easy view of passers-by.

“...but the inquisitor...he...he asked who...”

“Breathe, Morgana.” Morgause instructed, dispassionately. “You can finish later, just breathe.”

Morgana huddled against the wall, staring at her feet waiting for the waves of terror to pass. She wanted to run, to hide from Morgause and everything else. Most especially herself. Why had she said Merlin? Why, why, why?

Eventually, despite how violently she felt she'd been breaking apart inside, Morgana could breathe again. It was an odd thing, in a way, she hated it. How could she feel so utterly torn into pieces, so completely destroyed, and then come back to anything like normal breathing?

“Last term, like I said,” she began quietly. “Arthur, Gwen, Merlin and I smuggled a boy out that they were looking for. I tried first, but I fell out of a tree and got caught. The boy didn't, and the others got him away. But when I was caught I told them I'd broken the rules to go see a boy. I figured they'd believe that, and they did. Uther was furious with me, I was put on probation as an RA, but no one asked too many questions. The Inquisitor though, he asked me who I'd been going to see and I hadn't expected that, I didn't know what to say, if I took too long, if I seemed to hesitate...”

Morgana shook her head, “So I said the first name that came to mind, Merlin.”

“And now, they'll call him in, ostensibly to ask him about your relationship, to get him to confirm that you were sneaking out to see him, but, even if he does, then they'll start asking him other 'routine' questions. And either they'll take him or he'll name more names. Unless he tells them he has no idea what you were talking about, of course.”

Morgause's tone was matter-of-fact.

“I can't find him to warn him. Arthur's looking for him now but…”

“Are you more worried about him, yourself, or who he might name?” Morgause asked, almost bored.

“Him!” Morgana snapped, unable to bear Morgause's demeanor. “He'd never name anyone.”

“Are you sure? You did.”

“That's...that's not fair.” Morgana insisted, “I didn't mean to, and I had no reason to think they'd call me in, I wasn't prepared. Merlin knows he might be.”

“And what would you have done if you had been prepared? Name someone else instead? It's ok as long as it's not your friend?”

“No! I...”

“It's _not_ fair. And I suppose it's not your fault. This is what they do, Morgana. This is how the system works. You aren't the first person to play into their hands, and you won't be the last. I suppose you can just be grateful you only gave them one name.”

Morgana stayed quiet, thoughts whirling around.

“The whole thing needs to be torn down. We can't just sit here anymore. It's gone on far to long. It has to end.” Morgause began pacing, she kept her voice low but it was full of anger.

“Parents are torn from their children, people are tortured for simply being born, others are kept in cages, or only allowed what meager lives they are deemed fit for. It has to stop. They round us up like vermin, they use us as scapegoats, as bogeymen, as tools! It has to stop! We are not their monsters. They are the monsters. It. Has. To. Stop.”

Morgause rounded on Morgana, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

“Of course, but I don't think there's anything we can do.” Morgana bit her lip, frightened and confused, exhausted and struggling.

“We can. There is always something to be done. It's merely a matter of choosing the right thing.” Morgause said firmly, then she softened slightly. “Telling yourself there's nothing you can do is cowardly, Morgana. Always be honest, at least with yourself about when you're afraid and most importantly why. The thing you fear most is often the very reason you must fight.”

Morgana considered that for a moment. It made sense but it didn't make her any less afraid—or less at a loss for what she could do to stop it all. It had been easier, she was disturbed to admit, when she thought she was safe—normal and protected by her association with Uther. Then she could try to help Gwen or help smuggle Mordred away. And with a sinking feeling she realized she had indeed been a coward. She had always fought with Uther, always disagreed with him, which made her feel like she wasn't the same as the other people who just went along with all the terrible things in the country. But hadn't that been the safest, most ineffective way to do anything? It was all private and he viewed her as a rebellious child. It had never accomplished anything and shouting or loss of privileges was merely annoying to her—she never truly risked anything until she'd come to Camelot. And even then it was still minor, even when she'd run away she'd risked everyone else more than herself. Morgause was right. The fact that she was so afraid and what she could lose if she truly pitted herself against the government—her inheritance and her very freedom—was the reason she needed to make such a stand.

“What...what can we do?” Morgana asked quietly, filled with self-loathing but a spark of reckless fury.

“The first thing you must do is decide what you are willing to lose.” Morgause began, “Because there is always great risk and if you balk not only  _ will _ you lose, but so will everyone else. So you must decide how far you are willing to go, and be prepared for it. Be prepared to sacrifice as much as you decide you can. It's extreme, but it has to be. That's what is already in place, barbarism and tyranny. That's what we're fighting and we'll never get anywhere by being cautious or timid—history has proved that. Reason will not win this because it's never had anything to do with reason. We must be extreme if we wish to enact extreme change—and the kind of world we want, with freedom and understanding, that is an extreme change from this one. This is a war Morgana, make no mistake, and our kind have been dying all along. So what are you willing to lose?”

A terrible question. Morgana could feel herself wanting to both respond to Morgause's fervor and recoil from it. She wanted to promise to risk everything, to fight anything, to do whatever was needed...but she wanted to run as well. To go back to her room and her classes, to just hiding and hoping no one would find out. She wanted to go back to normal and to safety, as impossible as she knew it was.

“Alright.” Morgana said shakily, “I...think I know what I am willing to risk.”

“What you are willing to lose, Morgana, picture that. Because you have to be able to do it.”

Morgana swallowed, but nodded. “What can I do?”

“You can bring me Arthur Pendragon.”  



	16. Arthur's Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's point of view in the woods and the conclusion to what happens in Merlin's room.

~*~Arthur~*~

 

    Arthur knew the sane thing to do was report the girl and get out of the area, but, he couldn't. He stayed, watching her as she had some kind of painful struggle with herself. It was confusing, the feeling that rose in him. He wasn't afraid of her, for all he knew he should be. She was mentally defective, and had already proved dangerous, but as he watched her, it wasn't even really pity that he felt. He wanted to help her, to protect her from whatever caused the look of despair and terror on her face.

    He stamped it down, cursing his foolishness. There was nothing he could do for her, and no doubt she'd turn on him if he tried. The problem was her mind. Her mind was a broken thing, and no one could save her from it. That was the reason for all the harsh measures, for all the policies and bureaus. He knew people sometimes found them severe, but his father had explained over and over that they were necessary measures—there was no other way as hard as it was sometimes. The only help for this girl was to be taken into state care where she could be watched, restrained, and given what medicine there might be for her.

    She rose, threw him a terrified look, and hurried away. He didn't move for a moment, torn. But though he couldn't really explain why, he followed. He should leave, or, at least look for Merlin. If Merlin really was wandering around out here, he might blunder into her and who knew what she might do.

    He didn't dare follow her closely, however, and kept losing her. With each step his confusion deepened, with fear clinging to his heels as well, but he just kept walking, pausing only to listen for her footfalls or to hide behind a tree if he thought he was too close.

    He stilled, listening for her steps, but instead heard her voice again. And then someone answered her. He stayed still, who could be talking to her? He tried to focus on the other voice, but it was quiet and distant. But he found he knew anyway—Merlin. It had to be, who else would be out here? He tried to consider what to do—if she was talking with him, he was safe for the moment and Public Safety would be there shortly...but if Arthur went up to them, he might startle her into doing something violent.

    Then a thought struck him—everything he knew about Merlin pointed to Merlin's trying to get her away rather than turning her over to people who knew what they were doing. Merlin had never really said much—not like Morgana's occasional mutterings, but what he said about Gwen's situation in the beginning, and Mordred's...Merlin would try to help her himself. Arthur swallowed, and remembered Morgana's stricken face when she'd asked him where Merlin was. What if she was right? What if innocent people did get into trouble like Gwen almost had? If so, then being found with the girl in the woods, particularly when Morgana seemed convinced her mentioning his name was a problem, would get Merlin into trouble.

    There was only one thing to do. No one would mistake Merlin if Arthur Pendragon, Earl of Edgemont, was there to remind them of Merlin's service against the mentally defective. Arthur wouldn't let them.

    But it was worse than he had thought—one look at them and Arthur could tell that chance had not brought them together. Merlin had a backpack and had obviously handed the girl a jumper. He'd known where she was and not reported her. He was aiding and abetting. And the backpack...he couldn't possibly be planning on taking her off campus himself? There was no time—that was damning evidence.

    The girl pulled on the jumper as Arthur approached.

    “Merlin?” he asked, still reeling from the idea that Merlin would do anything so completely stupid.

    “Arthur...” Merlin looked horrified. A touch of anger made it's way in to take charge of Arthur's shock and fear.

    The girl said something, and Merlin made to answer her but Arthur grabbed the backpack, and made sure to fling it far out of sight.

    When he turned back to them, Merlin began an angry demand but it was too late. Public Safety crept through the trees silent as cats, guns trained on them. Arthur grabbed Merlin's wrist, hoping against hope he could keep the idiot from revealing himself. They shouted at the girl, ordering her hands up. She sank down, sobbing, but compliant. Arthur's eyes stung, his ears rang, and his heart raced.

    Merlin tried to move, but Arthur tightened his grip and stomped on his foot.

    “Don't be an idiot.” He hissed, though Merlin didn't seem to hear. They pulled a black bag over the girl's head and cuffed her hands. Her choked sobs were the most desperately heartbreaking thing Arthur had ever heard. He wanted to tell them to stop, demand they treat her with more care. But he didn't dare—not while he was trying to hold Merlin back without appearing to, and not when he needed them to give him Merlin when it was over.

    He knew his grip on Merlin's wrist was the only thing keeping Merlin in check, but it made him feel even more sick knowing how hard he was holding it. They dragged the girl off, back toward campus. Two agents stayed behind. It was time for Arthur to perform.

    “You didn't mention anyone else in your call.”

    Arthur lied, smoothly. He made it sound reasonable. But Merlin didn't say anything.

    “ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said firmly, prodding him. “I'm sure you're in shock but you could, I don't know, answer the man who just saved you.”

    Thankfully that worked and Merlin stuttered out some responses, nothing incriminating, though nothing very elegant either.

    “Right, well, I'll need you to come back with me and give an official statement--”

    “That won't be necessary.” Arthur broke in. “Merlin was with me during that unfortunate business over the Solstice Holiday, and he saved my life. He's a close Pendragon family friend and as he's just had a nasty shock, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”

    “Sir, the proce-”

    “'My Lord' is the courtesy address for my station.” Arthur corrected coldly.

    The man swallowed. “Er, yes. I mean, as you will, my lord.”

    Not daring to let the man reconsider, Arthur pulled Merlin away. He just picked the opposite direction from where the girl had been dragged off, trying to shut out the echoes of her cries still reverberating in his ears. Eventually though, stewing in his anger and confusion, Merlin finally spoke.

    “You're hurting me.”

    Arthur slowed, and loosened his grip on Merlin's wrist—but did not let go. He couldn't. He needed to get Merlin somewhere safe. He needed to get them both far away from what had happened. He needed to think, he needed to shove Merlin into a wall and ask him what the hell he'd been playing at. He needed to shove Merlin into a wall and kiss him until they couldn't breathe.

    The only place that came to mind was Gaius'. He knew, generally, where it was. He'd seen Merlin heading back there often enough. Merlin for his part just allowed Arthur to pull him along. It was lucky because with every step Arthur became more furious about the whole thing. Merlin should have turned her in like any good citizen. There was a reason harboring people like that girl was a crime. He shouldn't have been wandering around in the woods while there was a dangerous defective on the loose and he should have answered his phone—that was just inconsiderate. And what about Morgana? He was just going to leave her and take off without a word? And what about his other friends? What the bloody hell was he thinking?

    Arthur was positively rude to Gaius, which he regretted but he was so irate with Merlin, he couldn't find anything sensible to say to Gaius apart from basically demanding to know where Merlin's room was. He dragged him up to it which was when Merlin finally came out of his shocked silence and tore free of Arthur's grip.

    They started shouting at each other, then. Arthur had intended to indignantly demand answers to all the very good questions he'd come up with while dragging Merlin behind him and make Merlin see, for once, how wrong he'd been. But somehow, Merlin slipped in and stabbed at the places Arthur hadn't realized were so raw.

    “She was terrified and alone and just needed help!” Merlin cried, his face streaked with angry tears.

    “Which is exactly what she'll get, from people who know what they're doing.” Arthur retorted, confused as to why he was the one under attack.

    “You were there! Did that look like help to you? You saw Mordred, do you have any idea what they're going to do to her?” Merlin was beside himself.

    “This is completely different to that!” It was. It had to be.

    “No, it's exactly the same!”

    “In any system this large there are going to be abuses, we have to be vigilant and stop them when we find them, but what happened to Mordred wasn't normal, Merlin, it was just unfortunate.” Arthur tried, thinking of what his father had always said.

    Which was when Merlin pulled back his fist and aimed for Arthur's nose. Arthur turned just in time, catching the blow on his cheek. It hurt, but he could tell that even if it had landed on target, it wouldn't have broken anything.

    “You always said this would end in punching.” He hissed, one hand massaging his face. “But I don't believe you actually broke the last guy's nose, not punching like that.”

    Merlin made a strangled noise and made to pummel Arthur's chest. Arthur caught his hands and Merlin pulled away, flinching. Arthur could see a bruise already forming where he'd had his death grip earlier. It made the punching a bit less galling. But he didn't let go of Merlin.

    “You can't save them all.” He said, surprised at how his voice had gone soft. Nothing happened for a moment, and then,

    “I did too break his nose,” Merlin whispered back, hoarse and stuttering, still pulling away but less adamantly.

    The tension had drained out of them. Merlin fell back inside himself after the punch—or perhaps because Arthur's words had hit some secret mark. Arthur found that his anger and his defensiveness fled before the reality of how upset Merlin was. He didn't like Merlin angry at him, and he didn't like the helplessness or hopelessness that came when Merlin's rage settled into pain. He let out a shaky breath and Merlin's eyes flicked up to meet his before sliding away again. Arthur realized how close their faces were, how he was still holding Merlin's wrists.

    He swallowed hard, and let go.

    Merlin retreated several steps.

    “I was only trying to do the right thing,” Arthur found himself explaining.

    “I know,” Merlin sighed heavily. “Me too.”

    “Sorry about your wrist...”

    “I'm not sorry I punched you yet, but I will be.”

    Arthur stared at him. Merlin sank onto his bed.

    “Right.” Arthur murmured. “I should probably...”

    Merlin nodded.

    Arthur left, a tightness in his chest that he couldn't place. But he didn't feel like they'd gone backwards again. Not that the punching or shouting could be called progress—but more than that, at the end of it all and despite it all, they had managed to hold their footing. That was, strangely, perhaps better than making progress, finding that they could have such a confrontation, and not lose ground. It felt like maybe their friendship had something solid under it after all.

    The thing was, Arthur couldn't get the image of the girl being dragged away out of his head. He knew she was dangerous, and he knew that such people rarely made sense, but he just couldn't reconcile the frightened and desolate look in her eyes with the force and cruelty of her capture. She hadn't even been given a chance to walk away on her own—to surrender to the help she needed. Even criminals were supposed to be treated with dignity and informed of their rights.

    And he was again unsure. He had always believed everything his father had told him, he'd always ignored Morgana's concerns as her just butting heads with his father as she always did. He'd never really thought about it. Even Mordred had not caused him much turmoil—particularly not after what happened at the Solstice. There were mistakes, flukes, and anomalies in any system. That wasn't just what his father had said—they'd covered it in school in a way, talking about how no political system was ever perfect. The best that could be done was to try to limit corruption and abuses of power, to minimize injustice and loopholes.

    But if what Morgause had showed him could be true...and possibly even if it wasn't...perhaps the system was much more broken than he'd known. That troubled him. People with mental defects did exist, he was sure of that. He also was sure they could be dangerous, he'd met that possibility first hand. But what was the price of safety? Could what happened to Mordred and that girl be worth it?

    Arthur shook his head slightly, approaching his dorm. He didn't have that answer and it hurt to consider it. He knew he would find out soon enough—he'd be taking his place in politics eventually. If it was as bad as some people seemed to think, it would be impossible to hide. And if it was...he'd find a better way. He knew his father had done his best but he'd had to build policy from nothing, Arthur would be building on what had come before. He would just have to find a better way to protect people. But he was a first year university student, only just eighteen. There wasn't much time left before the burdens of the nation would be his, and he didn't want to waste it worrying about things he wouldn't be able to escape later.

    But they bothered Merlin now. Arthur sighed, keying into his room and flopping down on his bed. Merlin was too serious and too eager to worry about it. He'd tried to help that girl himself—a stupid plan. And, Arthur sat up looking around. What about Morgana? He still didn't understand what was between them but once he had stopped being angry at Merlin for being in such a dangerous situation he remembered to be angry on her behalf. What was Merlin playing at, running off without telling her anything? And with another girl too.

    He wondered at that, at the fact that Merlin had lied about being with Morgana. Surely that was just this time...surely that was just because he was concocting a harebrained scheme to run away with a mentally defective girl he’d just met...Something just wasn’t adding up but Arthur couldn’t put his finger on it. He punched his pillow.

    Something was wrong at Camelot.


	17. Everyone's Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fall of Camelot.

~*~Gwen, Merlin, Arthur, Morgana ~*~

 

“PUBLIC SAFETY KEEPS NO ONE SAFE, PUBLIC SAFETY KEEPS NO ONE SAFE! THE ONLY DEFECTS ARE IN THE SYSTEM! PUBLIC SAFETY KEEPS NO ONE SAFE, PUBLIC SAFETY KEEPS NO ONE SAFE!”

The chanting roared as a tide of angry students poured into the Union. Gwen tried to duck out of the way, she'd been a few feet from the door, on her way to class and cutting through the Union, but she was swallowed by the crowd. She'd had her phone in her hand to check the time but it had been knocked away, she hadn't even heard it clatter to the ground for all the chanting.

Buffeted forward, Gwen was alarmed to see that some of the students seemed to be armed. At least, she saw someone carrying a cricket bat and someone else seemed to have some kind of pipe. She finally managed to get out of the way, flattening herself against a pillar as people moved around it. Screams then, and sounds of breaking glass and smashing tables.

Gwen quickly looked for a way out, but people were still coming through all the doors she could see. Her eyes widened as she smelled smoke. She didn't dare try to peer around the pillar, but all hell seemed to have broken loose. It was not really surprising, it was happening elsewhere in the country and the Inquisitors were here. But that didn't make being caught in the middle of it any less terrifying.

A fire alarm went off just as the flow of protesters started to thin out enough that Gwen could start working up the nerve to run for it. They seemed to be just swarming through, breaking everything and moving on. On the one hand, that meant she wanted to be behind them, out of their way. But on the other...didn't she want to join them?

Of course she didn't want to destroy the campus, but she did want to do something. She did agree with the people marching on, chanting. She finally glanced around the pillar to watch everyone exiting on the other side of the building—but seeing the fire in the food court, the broken tables and windows...

And a girl looking around frantically, screaming for help, a friend held up who was slumped in her arms.

Gwen couldn't be a part of the destruction.

But as she slid around the pillar toward the distraught girl, she knew she could still do something.

“You cannot be serious,” Gaius gasped as Kilgharrah explained why he was there.

“Deadly, I am afraid. It's always been about Camelot. But I didn't think your Merlin should be caught in it. You...you deserve it, you do, for what you did to me. But, Merlin seems fond of you, and he doesn't deserve this, so, I am warning you as well.”

Merlin just blinked. He had not nearly recovered yet from what had happened with Freya. He wasn't sure he ever would. And now Kilgharrah had burst in once again, to proclaim that a major demonstration was going to take place at Camelot—as in they were going to burn the entire campus to the ground.

“And it's too late to stop it, so don't bother trying to rat me out again. In fact, this isn't even my handy work, if you'll believe it. I think it's a masterstroke, I wouldn't lie, but it's not mine.”

“People will be hurt, killed—most likely,” Gaius protested.

“People die in wars. People die every day. And people die in Care.” Kilgharrah growled and then he rounded on Merlin.

“You, boy, have you cozied up to Edgemont like I told you?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied without thinking. That had not been his plan, but he had become close with Arthur—far closer than he ever intended. So close, in fact, that somehow Arthur had stood up for him with Public Safety and Merlin didn't even totally hate him for calling them in the first place.

“Good, because you need to get him out of Camelot before it happens. Otherwise, I'm not sure what they'll do to him, but I happen to think he's more useful alive and I am not really sure the others agree with me. But I know they have plans for him, I don't know the details, she's very cagey about such things but I know she has someone close to him.” Kilgharrah glanced at his watch. “You have thirty-five minutes.”

“ _ What? _ ” Merlin and Gaius squawked.

Kilgharrah shrugged, “I told you it was too late to stop it.”

Morgana stared out at the campus, smoke billowing from the familiar places. Screaming, chanting, sirens, the echoes of loud speakers all crashing off the walls of clustered buildings in an unending cacophony. There was a wild energy in it, and a satisfaction to the destruction, there truly was.

But she was still horrified, and still unsure how she had managed to walk a path that led her to this point in time and space. How did it happen? How did the quiet life with her father so long ago lead to her standing apart from this chaos watching it happen, her hands not yet dirty in it, but poised and ready to take up the hammer?

What was right? What did she know in her heart the way heroes always seemed to in stories?

She trembled, and swallowed hard. If she did not act, she would be swept away. Better to make her own mistakes than let all this carry on around her and make the mistakes of others hers by default. But could she do it? Morgause spoke of commitment and determination, but that was not enough. Morgana wondered if she was strong enough or if she would break in the middle, panic, and crumble in the noise and confusion. This world was madness and she could not bear it. Could she wade into it, whatever her decision, and shape the future as she wished—or would all her deliberation be for naught?

There was no way to know, and Morgana never could stay still.

“This...this can't be happening,” Vivian said for the third time, huddled by the door, her hands on her face. Arthur fought the urge to slap her. It wasn't fair. They were right in the middle of the end of the world, as far as they were concerned. They probably wouldn't survive this. She had every right to be terrified and shocked and it wasn't like he had done anything more useful himself. He'd done a great deal more staring in disbelief then he would care to admit.

“Well, it is.” Arthur said, but he didn't snap at her, he more sighed it.

He stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He'd called Morgana—no answer. He'd called Merlin, and he'd called Gwen. No answer from them either. He had almost called his father but opted just to text him  _ 'I'm alive, working on finding Morgana'  _ instead. He didn't have time to analyze why he hadn't been able to face his father's voice. Gwen, he thought reasonably, might be with Lancelot, so she could be safe. Could didn't mean was, of course, but it helped with the feeling of helpless panic that made thinking so hard to assign some hope to her situation. Morgana was another matter, and while she had never advertised her affiliation with the Pendragon family, it seemed to Arthur that she could be in almost as much danger as he was. Merlin theoretically should have had the same chances as any other random student in this mess but his track record was terrible. Still, he ought to have been at home, at Gaius' from what he'd know about Merlin's schedule. Unless he was with Morgana, of course.

“Should we barricade the door?” Vivian asked, seeming to compose herself slightly.

“No,” Arthur said. “I have to find Morgana. You can stay and barricade it if you want—or you can come with me.”

Vivian blinked at him for a moment.

“I...don't think I can leave,” she said quietly. Arthur stared at her for a long moment trying to will himself to care more about her, about what happened to her, about keeping her near him. He should after all—and it wasn't that he had no feelings for her at all, but he found that rather than wanting her with him, as he should want to keep his friends close whether or not he was sleeping with them, he really wanted to leave her. She wasn't his friend the way Gwen was, or even the way Leon was. Vivian was his friend only because neither of them had much choice. He'd always known that and yet, looking at her on the floor, arms wrapped around herself, he realized he'd never really seen Vivian as a person.

“Stay safe,” he told her, opening the door.

“And you,” she replied, apparently as unconcerned with him leaving her as he was. Somehow, Arthur found that even more despicable—that they both were so indifferent to each other when the world was burning around them—more than if it was just him.

  


Merlin's phone had been in the backpack Arthur had thrown into the trees. Merlin cursed himself for not having worked up the nerve to go back for it in the whole 29 or so hours since the incident had occurred. He really couldn't have, and he knew it, but now he had no phone to call Arthur or Morgana with—Gaius would have lent him his phone in a heartbeat but Merlin had programed his friends numbers into his own phone and never memorized them. There wasn't time for anything, anything at all. His wild mind had considered every possibility—from trying to message Arthur on facebook to trying to call Public Safety to tell them Arthur was in danger but nothing would work. He knew, in an abstract way, that if he could calm down and just  _ think  _ he could solve it. But there just wasn't time.

Merlin had gotten to campus and there had been still fifteen minutes before the deadline Kilgharrah had given him when everything went to hell. Merlin supposed it was hard to keep angry mobs to a schedule. He'd had to first dodge a group of chanting, marching people intent on getting to the union, and then crowds of fleeing people screaming. He knew Arthur hadn't been in class when the whole thing started so he was trying to fight his way to Arthur's dorm. But there was smoke coming from three buildings and then--

BANG! BANG BANG! BANG!

Merlin flattened himself to the ground. That had been gunfire. That had been fucking  _ gunfire _ . Some one had a gun and was actually firing it on campus. It would only get worse, he knew. The campus police only had tasers, but the Inquisitors were on campus, perhaps they were armed. They would have called in the Emergency Task Force and probably the Army Reserves, come to that.

Merlin scrambled to his feet, panting and shaking, and ran for Pembroke Hall. At this point, he just needed to be inside, not that walls would really protect him. He worried briefly over how he was going to get in, what with his ID card not granting him access to any of the dorms, but several windows had been smashed by people wanting to get in or out or just to break glass. It reminded him, vaguely, of sneaking into Arthur's room in the fall after Mordred. He missed not having to worry about glass shards.

He turned toward the direction of Arthur's room and found himself staring at a white-faced Morgana, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, wild like the day.

Morgana stared at Merlin for a moment, completely surprised. Arthur had told her that Merlin had not been hauled in by the inquisitors the day before and she knew that Merlin ought to have been at Gaius', safely away from all this, but here he was, clearly coming for Arthur. For Arthur, and not her. Though that wasn't fair—her building was further away and there had been gunshots a few moments ago.

“Merlin,” she said as he stared at her seemingly as confused to see her as she was him.

“Arthur's in danger,” he replied. “If this lot get him, they'll tear him apart.”

So he was here for Arthur.

“He's not here. Vivian's up in his room, she said he left a few minutes ago to look for me.”

“We have to find him and get him off campus. And you, too.”

“I was just going to go back, he'll probably be heading to my dorm. I don't know how I missed him.”

Merlin sighed and made to climb back out of the window he'd just come in. Morgana tapped him and pointed at the doors. Merlin blinked, apparently he’d been so caught up in the complete ridiculousness of the day he’d forgotten the doors would open from the inside without anyone swiping their card.  He followed her out.

The chanting was getting nearer again.

“We have to hurry,” she said, reaching to grab his sleeve.

“Did you come along the path?” Merlin asked, resisting her tugging.

“Yes, but even if he went another way, he'll still be heading for my dorm.”

Merlin nodded and they jogged back toward Layferry Hall, and she let go of his sleeve. Merlin complicated things slightly. She wasn't sure there would be time to explain to him why she had to take Arthur to Morgause. Merlin was clearly keen on getting him away from campus. She hadn't confided in him about Morgause and her plans and Arthur wouldn't go to see Morgause again if he knew that's where they were going. But Merlin was right, if the mob got a hold of Uther's son...they'd kill him.

“If he did go another way--” Merlin panted as Morgana swiped her card to open the door.

But Merlin was cut off as a loud, terrible sound came from the academic buildings. They looked to see flames swallowing what Morgana suspected was the Science Complex.

“Holy fuck,” Merlin shrieked.

“And they're headed our way,” Morgana panted. She shoved her ID card at Merlin. “You go up the back stairs, I'll go this way. If he's here...”

Merlin had already dashed off.

Morgana couldn't help taking one last look at the smoke pouring off the place she had once had classes before sprinting up the stairs, frantically calling for Arthur.

Gwen's ears rang. She blinked and coughed and for a moment wasn't even scared—just confused, what had happened? But she had not been seriously hurt, hadn't hit her head, and realization came quickly: an explosion. She got up slowly, inventorying her body to make sure she truly wasn't hurt. She'd helped where she could, but now things had gone from out of hand to extremely dangerous. She took a moment to get her bearings, and to decide where to go. Lancelot's. She prayed he wasn't any where near whatever had exploded, though she knew he must be out trying to help, as she had been, just with more authority and knowledge.

Lancelot would be ok, she thought determinedly. And once he returned to his flat, he could help her find out that Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana—and her roommate were all just as ok. Everyone was going to be fine because the alternative was too horrid to contemplate.

Getting off campus wasn't hard, though she could see it soon would be. There were sirens everywhere, helicopters overhead, and ETF had clearly just arrived. But no one had patrols along the grounds yet, just people arriving in parking lots and blocking off roads, so, for someone on foot just walking to the university town beyond, there were still options.

Lancelot's landlord let her in, despite the fact that she didn't ask him and he really had no reason to. She'd been sitting outside on the porch when the man had gotten home and he saw her skinned knees and watery eyes. He'd only asked if she was from the university and if she knew Lancelot, that was it.

She sat awkwardly at Lancelot's table for awhile then, realizing how tired she was, sighed and cleaned up her knees and then curled up on the couch to wait, her mind numb and thoughts fleeing from her as she tried to understand the events of the day.

“Where's Merlin?” was the first thing Arthur said after he found Morgana breathless halfway down the stairs back to the first floor of her building. He had had no idea where to look for her next and was thus extremely relieved to see her, however, once he had eyes on her his mind shifted to his next priority.

Morgana took a moment to respond, catching her breath.

“He's safe,” she panted. “I promise he's alright, but Arthur we have to go, they're coming this way.”

Arthur frowned but nodded, he'd hoped for something more specific, and he was worried about Gwen as well but they could help no one if that mob got hold of them. They would have to find some place better to hide before they made plans to find Gwen and for Arthur to nag Morgana for more details. Morgana turned around and went back the way she'd come with Arthur on her heels. Before the door closed behind them as they checked the area for danger, he thought he almost heard Merlin's voice. It was stupid, being so concerned about Merlin as to have his ears play tricks on him but it was not the time to consider the war in his heart about Morgana and Merlin, and his relationship with Vivian. Instead he concentrated on putting more distance between himself and the shouting voices he knew would be coming around the side of the building any moment.

“Where are we going?” he asked Morgana as she was leading him off toward another dormitory.

“I have...a friend who has somewhere safe...” Morgana got out between gasps as they continued their sprint.

That was a completely unsatisfactory response, but, he figured it had to do with how hard it was for Morgana to run and talk at the moment and let it go.

It took Merlin an age to put it all together—not all, in fact he was still missing huge chunks of what was going on, he only knew one thing that was clear: Morgana had taken Arthur and left him behind. He'd seen them from the window at the top of the stairwell running away. He could hear the mob downstairs breaking windows, vending machines, and who knew what else. He could only hope this group were not the ones who seemed to be actually blowing things up.

He tried to tell himself that it was alright, that Morgana had had to get Arthur away and couldn't wait, that the mob was too close and Arthur—as well as herself were in much more danger than he was so she'd had to. He tried to convince himself he was glad, that had he been consulted he'd have told her to go.

But the truth was he did feel a confused ache of abandonment. And then there was the uncomfortable truth that he and Morgana had been telling everyone they'd been spending more time together than they had and he didn't really understand where she had been exactly nor what she'd been doing. Morgause had tried to get to Arthur before, and having her efforts thwarted by Merlin she'd become friends with Morgana. And then there was what Kilgarragh had said about how he was not in fact who'd been orchestrating things at Camelot. And that whoever was had someone close to Arthur.

Merlin shook his head, worrying the hem of his shirt. Arthur was the only family Morgana had, she'd kill to protect him. It had to be that she'd had no time and no choice but was trying to get Arthur to safety. She couldn't possibly be doing anything else. Later, if they all survived it, she'd apologize to him for this. She'd bite her lip the way she did when she was upset and he'd forgive her for protecting herself and Arthur.

He was torn between waiting and hoping the mob moved on soon—and trying to sneak down and take cover by joining them. The decision was made by the fact that he couldn't quite convince his legs to move and kept flinching at the random crashes.

Morgana couldn't breathe despite the fact that they'd stopped running some time ago. She wasn't sure where the panic was coming from—they were safe. They were safe and she was doing the right thing. Nothing would change unless someone changed it. Morgana was going to do her part. She was going to bring Arthur to Morgause so they could undo what Merlin had done but this time they'd also be there to urge Arthur to fight rather than hide in a bottle. He had a good heart. He could be shown, reasoned with. And then...then they'd have the most important ally possible.

But even as she thought it through her throat tightened further. There was that tiny, terrible voice that asked: 'What if Morgause lied?' She fought this voice, she fought to gulp in air. She would not fail her sister, she could not.

“Morgana, seriously, where the hell are we going?” Arthur asked again.

Morgana gestured at a grounds maintenance building about a quarter of a mile away, across a pleasantly mowed lawn.

“What about Gwen, and are you sure Merlin's alright? Where are they?”

Morgana shook her head, she couldn't get air in to answer him even if she'd had anything to say. Besides, she'd become aware of a strange sound, a sort of low rhythmic rumble and it frightened her. After a few more moments she realized it was a helicopter. Arthur stopped and put a hand up to shield his eyes as he gazed skyward looking for the aircraft. Morgana reached out to tug him along. Helicopters were a sign the army would finally have been called in which meant they didn't have much time—and it also meant that things were probably going to get even more violent.

They had almost reached the building when it became apparent the helicopter was going to land in the field they'd just been in. Morgana's heart plummeted but she finally got a proper gulp of air. It was for them. Somehow, somehow they were to be 'rescued'. And she could hardly get Arthur to run away at this point. She had done her best but it had not been enough. All of it...all the destruction...was for nothing, in the end.


	18. Everyone's Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone makes plans for what comes next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.)

~*~Gwen, Merlin, Morgana, Arthur~*~

 

“I have a house,” Gwen blurted out after Lancelot finished detailing how he'd gotten the black eye and otherwise spent his time the day before while Camelot fell.

Lancelot stared at her in confusion.

“I know,” she started in a rush, “I know it's too soon, it's insa—it's not sensible, and I don't know, maybe we could just be roommates but I have a house. And...and a car, actually, now. The house is about an hour and fifteen minute drive from Dorset University. It's only a small public university of course, but you said they'd close Camelot and plenty of people manage in life by going to public university. It was a miracle I got into Camelot at all and with my father...gone even with the scholarship if they send me to Tintagel or Joyus Gard or something it's just...too much. And you might go anywhere or have other plans or...I don't know but I'm saying, what I'm saying is...come with me. Just, even though it makes absolutely no sense and I don't know what you'd do, move to Lethbridge with me. We'll both find some work, gods know what, and go to Dorset taking online classes when we can. Just...let's just...go.”

Lancelot had let her get her cascade of words out with only a mild look of alarm. He set down the mug of coffee he'd been holding and took a breath to organize his thoughts.

“You can think about it, obviously.” Gwen hastily added.

He nodded, “And I think maybe you should too.”

“I thought, perhaps, I might ask Merlin to come along as well,” (although she had only just thought of it as she'd said it). “That might make it a bit less...”

“Domestic?”

“Yes, that.” Her cheeks had started to catch up to the fact that she'd just asked Lancelot to run away with her and move in--and they were growing warmer by the second.

“But I don't think he'll want to try again at one of the private universities even if that's what they decide to do with us. He'll probably want somewhere with a good program though, for geology, and I don't know what Dorset University has to offer...”

“I think, after you've had a bit of time to make sure you really want to do this, it would be good to ask him. But everything has only just happened and we don't even know what all your options are. Besides, the whole year has been one upset after another so taking some time to really consider what you want and what you need is probably the best thing.”

She nodded, a small part of her trying to sort out the fact that he'd not even remotely turned her down with the fact that he was also counseling good sense instead of matching her abandon with his own. Mostly though, she was just tired and on edge; both exhausted and full of agitated energy. Yesterday she'd been nearly blown up and today the last piece of the plans she'd made for her life had been confirmed as shattered. Her father was dead, her brother missing, and two of the people she'd come to rely on as part of her surrogate family would absolutely not be going anywhere near the tiny Dorset public university. Camelot was in ruins and would close, taking with it her plans to be educated at a top school—and more recently, the chance of answers and the power to change things. What did she have left? The house, Lancelot, and Merlin.

But she swallowed down the grief of that sentiment because: she still had the house, Lancelot, and Merlin. Even if neither wanted to move back to her childhood home she'd have them. And no matter where Morgana and Arthur went, surely she still had them too. These were the people who got her out of that horrible Public Safety interview when they hardly knew her.

Lancelot had told her that Morgana and Arthur had been extracted via helicopter before the second explosion (and therefore before the third and forth as well). Apparently, the Duke of Somerset not only could but  _ would _ move Heaven and Earth for them. Lancelot had also gotten back an “alive” Facebook message from Merlin, and assured all of them that while Gwen's phone had been a casualty, she was safe. They'd all made it out. There was no official word yet on who had not, though both Gwen and Lancelot knew from their time on campus trying to help that in the end, not everyone had.

Merlin cracked the door open and peered around to spot the sandwich and bag of crisps Gaius had left him, along with two new bottles of water. Merlin had been holed up for two days, mostly he just stayed in bed but he didn't sleep much. He didn't even have nightmares, it was just that every time he started to drift off he'd bolt awake in a panic, jumping out of bed and looking for the threat. For some people, human contact would have been crucial to breaking out of the misery, the terror, the all consuming feeling that he was actually dying. But not with Merlin. Merlin needed to withdraw as fully as possible if he had any hope of maintaining vital skills like reading, being able to understand English, or noticing when he was digging his fingers into his arms to the point of bruises.

The moments when he could see Freya's face as she decided to trust him were interspersed with being able to hear the gunshots and then riding the racing beats of his own heart back to when his hands pushing down were all that kept Arthur alive. But it was worse than that. It was also that just as his mind and body insisted by maintaining a hyper-vigilant combination of stress hormones flooding through his veins: it wasn't over. He couldn't stay safe in this room forever. There would be more chaos over everything that had happened. And he would be expected to talk to people, to Gaius, his mum, administrators and investigators and worst of all: his friends. He'd be expected to make decisions and plans, to have preferences and to relive things. Fuck that.

He's saved Arthur's life at the Solstice, and he'd found the hall phone to call in where Morgana and Arthur had been headed so they could be rescued. He'd done his part. He tried his best to help Freya—and Morgana, though he wasn't exactly sure which might be said to be more disastrous. The world, all of it and everyone in it...except his mum, would have to just go hang for a week or a month or a year. Merlin simply couldn't anymore. Morgana and her questionable allegiances and her leaving him behind, Arthur and his stupid father and his stupid belief in everything he'd been taught, Gwen and her innocence and silly romantic interest in Lancelot. Lancelot and his  _ knowing Merlin's secret.  _ Nothing was safe anymore. Not just because of who and what Merlin was, but for anyone. But then, as he heard Freya's panicked explanation of the voices in her head echo with his mother's angry-desperate admonishments when she found out he'd told Will his secret be drowned out by the explosions from the campus: it never had been.

Morgana stared at her hands. She wanted to scream, to beat her fists against something, to find some way to empty herself of everything under her skin. However, she stayed perfectly still. She was in a suite in the closest thing to an ostentatious hotel the area had to offer. She couldn't afford to act out, to do anything to make her own situation more precarious. Uther had, in his own way, been disturbingly involved and gentle with her. He was certainly more attentive to her and Arthur than he had been, apart from at the hospital at the Solstice, in her memory. It was suffocating and sickening at the same time it was a mortal threat. The idea that he actually cared about her made her skin crawl, but it was easily dismissed by remembering that if he knew he wouldn't hesitate to destroy her.

If he only knew that his precious ward was not only mentally defective, but oh no, had been just that close to delivering his ill-gotten son to the hands of his enemies. She swallowed hard. That had been what she was doing. She knew that. And Uther and Arthur talked like Arthur would have died if it weren't for her—and Merlin. Merlin who somehow worked it out, or no, that was paranoid. He'd only been trying to help, surely, only been doing his best to save Arthur from the crowd. And she'd left him there. But it was for nothing. And she clasped her hands ever so slightly tighter as the small part of her that was relieved stirred. The part that had doubts about what she'd been doing, about what Morgause intended, about how redeemable Arthur even was. That part was traitorous. It was a war, and it had been since before there had been guns and explosions at Camelot. Her people were slaughtered and tortured everyday because of Uther. And if Arthur, her brother in all but blood, could become part of it...then he wasn't her brother afterall.

Morgause was her sister no matter what. And she did trust her sister. Because Morgause had been fighting this war most of her life while Morgana had been dithering, hiding, watching while shaking her head. If one of them was right about tactics, Morgana knew it was not herself. It would always be Morgause. She loved Arthur, but she knew she loved him most for what he could be and not what he was, for the moments when he defied his father and thought for himself. Those were rare, and the amount of pressure Uther had put on him everyday since he'd been born could well keep him forever under Uther's control. If Arthur was to be saved, it could only be done by getting him away from Uther, and saving him was worth the risk of damaging him--not only for his own sake, but everyone else in the country. Morgause was right and if Merlin understood, if she had not kept Morgause to herself in her selfish joy of having a sister, Merlin would have helped her rather than thwarted her. If she had just told him in time, things would have gone right.

But they hadn't and now Morgana was to endure increased scrutiny from Uther when she could least afford it, all while having no idea how or when she would ever see her sister again—and dreading that eventual meeting as much as longing for it. Morgause was the only person who knew her truly, understood and accepted her completely. She was Morgana's only real family and Morgana had not only failed Morgause, but also millions of people who had unknowingly been counting on Morgana to change everything, to give them all hope.

Morgana wanted to tear her hair out or sob. But she stayed perfectly still.

“There will be no difficulty installing you and Morgana at Joyus Gard,” Uther waved a hand while contemplating his lunch. “The Camelot computer servers were all destroyed so I do not yet know how the matter of transfer placement will be decided, but I have no doubt they can devise entry tests for key classes at other universities to determine how to integrate former Camelot students.”

Former Camelot students that  _ survived _ , Arthur added in his mind. Camelot was to be closed and it's students would have to go to other universities. Several of the larger public universities had already pledged to take Camelot survivors, though no details had yet been released about how that would work. No one really cared about that right now anyway, they were still looking for  _ bodies _ .

Apparently it had been Merlin who'd called the emergency number from Morgana's residence hall phone and just repeated over and over that he'd seen Arthur Pendragon, Duke of Somerset's son, headed away from Layferry Residence Hall in a roughly north-westerly direction no matter what they asked him. And it was, of course, Morgana that had picked that inexplicable direction and pulled him on, despite Arthur wanting more information, that meant they were clear enough of the mob to be rescued safely.

Arthur simply couldn't absorb any of it. Eating lunch with his father—who kept trying to make conversation—was too surreal. Knowing people had died, that his classes were destroyed, that they were the Camelot  _ survivors _ ...it simply wouldn't process. So he just ate his roasted organic chicken while doing his best to answer his father and wondering if it would be immoral to enjoy this sudden familial bonding. If he were ever to find the capacity for that feeling, he thought he would quite like to be full of a glowing or heavy comfort that his father cared enough to be shaken to such grand gestures as trying to engage Arthur in conversation rather than just lecturing him. But all he really felt was nothing. Nothing about any of it except for random brief stabs of emotions he could hardly name let alone fathom.

Merlin had worked out his plans, eventually, and two weeks after the Fall of Camelot University he was able to calmly relay his decision and variations on the reasoning to Gaius, his mother (who had come as soon as she could get off work and Merlin said it was alright), Gwen, and Morgana (through a text message). There was only one person left.

Merlin faced it with an odd sense of clarity. He knew exactly what he had to do and it wouldn’t be hard. In any other time in his life it would have been impossible, but there was a space when one had been pushed beyond their limits where the most unimaginable things suddenly were easy. There was a price to being pushed that far. Any human could be and any human who had been would pay for it, but the psycho-biological deal had already been signed so he might as well take advantage of the situation.

They'd always met at the library, at Gwen's, Morgana's, or Arthur's dorm room or somewhere in their halls, or the Union, or a dining hall—always on campus save for the time Merlin visited that bleak monstrosity that Arthur and Morgana called home. Meeting at a cafe in town was bizarre. Not least of all because it had been as simple as texting Arthur and asking to meet there. Arthur had agreed easily.

“Thank you, for helping save my life, again,” Arthur said, less awkwardly than Merlin expected. He held out his hand for Merlin to shake. Merlin was proud that he managed not to even hesitate before taking Arthur's hand. If Arthur noticed this uncharacteristic behavior, he didn't show it, he simply gestured toward a table and they both sat down.

“If it weren't for Morgana, I'd be concerned that I wouldn't make it out of the next uni at all unless you were there.”

Merlin shrugged, trying not to feel anything at the mention of Morgana keeping Arthur safe. Instead he took the opportunity presented so they could skip the small talk and get right to the confrontation he knew was coming.

“Where will the next place be?” he asked, scanning the board over the counter like he was considering ordering something.

“I think I'll probably end up at Joyus Gard,” Arthur mused. “Father prefers that to Tintagel, obviously, and there's really no question of a public university. He would never consider it, even though I have heard that Knights University is actually on par with Tintagel or Joyus Gard, if not Camelot.”

Merlin made a noncommittal noise, still scanning the menu.

“So...where do you think you'll end up? Is it too much to hope you might apply to Joyus Gard as well, or...somewhere at least vaguely close? I know Gwen's going to go to Dorset of all places, so it'll be strange in any case, but you, me, and Morgana all close together would be something.”

And there it was.

“I'm not going to go to university anymore.” Merlin said slowly, turning his attention to Arthur finally, focusing on his hands.

“What? You have to.” Arthur blinked.

“Arthur, Camelot was a one shot sort of thing. I can't afford to try again.”

“That's ridiculous. They'll forgive your loans from Camelot—they'll forgive everyone's. It'll just be like starting all over again. You got in with a scholarship to Camelot, I'm sure you'll get one for anywhere you want. And they’ll be tests so some of our credits will transfer over even though all the records were lost...”

“It's not that simple for some of us.”

“So, what—you're just going to give up?”

“Give up  _ what _ ?” Merlin snapped, “I'm not giving up on life Arthur, just higher education. There is more to life you know, more ways you can do things. This didn't work out for me. I'm going home. I'll figure something else out.”

“But...” Arthur blinked again.

Merlin stood up and unzipped his hoody—Arthur's hoody--and he handed it back. “I don't think I'll need this anymore.”

Arthur's mouth hung open and Merlin glanced at his face just long enough to register the hurt—and anger there. Arthur snatched the offered clothing over the table and stood up as well.

“Fine.” He said, “Fine, just...go home and be a...a farmer or whatever.”

And Arthur stormed off, leaving Merlin grimly satisfied but aching and cold.

“I promise this is the very last time I'll ask,” Lancelot said as he picked up the final box from his apartment to load into the car. “But you are absolutely sure about this?”

Gwen rolled her eyes but smiled. “ _ Yes _ .”

He tried to sigh and shake his head but she could see the corners of his mouth twitching up. They'd had many very long talks and decided that they would take things glacially slow. Lancelot getting a new job, Gwen getting a first non-summer job, both of them moving as well as moving in together, taking classes at a small university that was a decent commute...it was all too much to put on a new relationship without a ton of boundaries. But they seemed, at least thus far, to have open and honest communication. Gwen thought that had to count for something.

Gwen pulled him close to her after he set the last box in the trunk and took a picture of them in front of the loaded up car.

“Sending it to Morgana?” he asked and he locked his empty flat and started toward the landlord's door.

“And Merlin, and Arthur.” Gwen replied typing into her phone, “I'm going to miss them all so much.”

“Me too,” Lancelot replied, sounding a little surprised. “I never thought that I would make friends quite like the four of you.”

“Bet you never thought you'd be out of a job because the campus actually blew up, either.” Gwen sighed, looking toward the campus.

“No...no, I guess I thought I'd be better at security than that.”

“As if you could have done anything more.”

“I don't suppose I could.”

“None of us could.” Gwen said sadly, but firmly.

Two weeks after returning to Pendragon Castle, and slightly more than four weeks since everything ended, Uther summoned not only Arthur but Morgana to his study. Arthur could remember the walk to his father's study always being one of great fear and trepidation as a child and found, despite the periods of attentiveness from his father after his near-death experiences in the last year, he fell into old habits. He spent the time wondering frantically what he could have done now to earn his father’s displeasure. Morgana, when she joined him from wherever she'd been, was unaffected, walking calmly on. He wasn't sure if he could detect an air of defiance from her or if that too was just him assuming old habits were not limited to him. Together they approached the study, lost in their own thoughts. When they arrived, Morgana made no move toward the door but Uther would tolerate no dallying.

So Arthur knocked.

“Enter.” Uther called. Arthur pushed open the heavy wooden door and made sure it closed quietly behind them. He approached his father's desk, Morgana at his side.

“Father,” he said.

“Arthur,” his father replied and then he turned to Morgana. “Morgana.”

Arthur sat in one of the straight back chairs facing the desk while Morgana simply carried on standing. 

“I called you here to discuss your admittance to Joyus Gard, and, to review your conduct from Camelot. University, is, of course an important time for young people to make connections and form bonds that will aid them in later life, as well as learning certain lessons about life that cannot be gained elsewhere. That is in addition to the obvious academic learning and team building activities such as sport or music. I do understand that. But as you prepare for your entrance exams at Joyus Gard, I want both of you to consider the frivolous period of your university days behind you. I understand that your time at Camelot was not ideal nor standard but I do not want either of you to think that means I will tolerate any more escapades such as endangering yourselves for romantic dalliances or cutting classes for unauthorized treks to the countryside. As disastrous as the Camelot affair was, you are both adults now. You must conduct yourselves appropriately. You will treat your time at Joyus Gard with all due seriousness and apply yourselves to your studies and teams and avoid the temptations of your earlier semesters.”

Arthur found himself with that curious numb feeling again. This was not unexpected, though. Given that he had their phones tracked as part of some kind of update on them, Arthur suspected that his father knew slightly more about what they'd been up to than they had thought at the time. He obviously didn't know anything too important—like their involvement in helping Mordred or exactly how very  _ not  _ moderate Arthur had been on occasion with his partying but he certainty knew they had not been toeing the line. Instead of feeling annoyed or a sorrowful resignation, Arthur didn't seem to have any reaction at all. Possibly it would hit him later, at Joyus Gard when he established a new group of friends and had to decline invitations for revelry.

Morgana, however, did react.

“I'm not going to Joyus Gard,” she said simply. “I'm going to Queens College at Knights University. And as I  _ am _ an adult, I'll manage my own conduct as it is  _ mine _ .”

“You will not attend a public university, Morgana, that is out of the question.”

“You can't stop me. I've already been accepted and taken two of the exams online. If you try to interfere I won't attend any university at all.”

Arthur looked from his father to Morgana, a tendril of dread spreading down his spine. Morgana had always argued, always threatened disobedience, but there had never been a note of actual hatred in her voice before. His father too, sensed the difference and opened his mouth to say something back, but Morgana simply turned on her heel and strode away, ignoring Uther's stern commands to come back.

Arthur found he wanted to be anywhere else, but he was still in the chair before his father's desk, watching something like heartbreak shadow his father's face. And that's when he realized he would do exactly as his father had demanded he do at Joyus Gard. He would be the perfect son, he would get it right this time, and finally succeed where he always had failed as a child. He could never rule Morgana any more than his father could, but, he could give his father what he needed from Arthur, and so he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There WILL be part 3 and more, I promise, though I cannot promise it will go quickly. I also promise that all this pain actually leads to something, it's not just there to make people suffer.


End file.
